Lights Will Guide You Home
by Alanabloom
Summary: "A gunshot cracks through silence, and their lives slice into Before and After." Graham/Emma, Royal Family, MM/David. Graham survives & Emma's suddenly in more danger than ever. When her life is threatened, family could be brought together or torn apart
1. City of Devils

_A/N:__ So I've been trying to resist jumping into OUAT fic, but this particular idea won't leave me alone. It's one part Emma/Graham fic (partially because I'm still in denial about his death, and partially because I obsessively wonder what would have happened between them if he hadn't died), one part Royal Family fic (because since Graham died, any and all combination of David/Mary Margaret/Emma/Henry is my favorite part of the show) and one part Curse Plot/Mythology/Regina Scheme fic. Lot of angst, lots of characters pop in, lots of stuff happening. For the beginning, it goes AU post-1x07, but I think later on actual events will be incorporated._

_I say, give this prologue a try…it touches on all elements that will be present. See what you think. And let me know, too!_

Prologue: City of Devils

_Find somebody to learn  
>Boy you gotta love someone more than yourself<br>I can feel the fire of the city lights burn  
>It's hard to find angels in hell<em>

_Flying along, and I_  
><em>Feel like I don't belong and I,<em>  
><em>Can't tell right from the wrong, why,<em>  
><em>Have I been here so long<em>

_~Yellowcard_

A gunshot cracks through the silence, and for the second time in a week, their lives slice neatly into _Before_ and _After_.

It's so fast Graham feels frozen. One second the barrel of a gun was pointed at him (at _him_, he's almost certain), and in the next Emma is falling against him, a soft gasp of surprise escaping her as she slides to the floor, his arms barely shooting out in time to cradle her fall.

There's blood. For a brief, panicky moment it seems to be everywhere, on her hands and his hands, but it's pumping from her stomach, her white shirt going crimson with sickening quickness.

Emma's eyes find his and, bizarrely, she seems to relax. Her face is ashen, eyes unfocused, but still she almost smiles when she sees him. Because this time, Graham is okay.

Just a week ago, he was dying in her arms. Now, their positions are reversed.

"Emma…" He breathes her name involuntarily. All thoughts of their assailant have left him; all Graham can think is that there's too much blood, he has to stop it, he has to save her.

She tries to speak, but all she can produce is a liquid, rattling breath, and her eyes go wide with terror. There's blood in her throat, and Emma seizes a handful of Graham's jacket, looking up at him, eyes silently pleading: _Please_.

"I've got you. You're going to be okay." His throat is tight, his heart slamming in his chest, but somehow, out of necessity, instinct kicks and Graham remembers protocol. He moves one of his hand from Emma's wound, going for his walkie talkie, and barks out orders for an ambulance.

_Officer down. _

Somehow those words don't quite cut it

He shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around Emma's waist, tying tightly, murmuring reassurances the whole time. She whimpers slightly, and Graham surrenders one hand to grab hers, squeezing gently. "Stay with me, Em."

His walkie talkie is ominously quiet in spite of his orders, and finally Graham says, "I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

Emma's eyes are closed.

"Emma!" For the first time, his tone betrays the full extent of his terror. Desperately, Graham nudges his fingers against her cheek. "Emma, c'mon stay with me, _please_."

Her eyes flutter open, pained and lidded. She swallows a few times, then manages, "Graham…"

He pulls her against him, and Emma weakly wraps an arm around his neck so Graham can lift her. Her head drops against his shoulder, and for a moment, hidden from Emma's gaze, Graham closes his eyes and draws a ragged breath.

He knows, now, the implications of this. Emma is the savior. Storybrooke cannot lose her.

But right now, his thoughts are more selfish. In that moment, she is simply _Emma_, a woman _he _can't bear to lose.

His lips brush her hairline. "You're going to be fine, Em," he tells her, just as much for himself as the limp woman in his arms.

"Don't let…Henry…see me…" she whispers against his neck.

Graham nods. "I'll try."

Then he carries her out of the Mayor's house.

~OUAT~

There is an ambulance arriving when Graham emerges onto the yard, behind a small crowd that's gathered to watch. He tries to get Emma straight to it, but he's barely stepped onto the sidewalk when a small, terrified voice rings out, "Emma!"

The boy is sprinting forward, pale and wild eyed. Regina grabs his shoulders, uselessly attempting to steer him back. "Henry, turn around." Her voice is sharp and impatient, rather than sympathetic, and Henry merely ignores her, staring in horror at his birthmother's lifeless form.

"What happened to her?" Henry demands, the pitch of his voice climbing into hysteria. "Is, is she going to be okay?"

"We've got to get her to a doctor, Henry," Graham says quickly, inwardly cursing himself for not being able to follow Emma's one request.

"I wanna go," the boy states forcefully, but Regina is more firm this time, pulling her son away from Graham, away from the ambulance.

Graham doesn't stay and listen to the argument. The paramedics meet him halfway, and soon his arms feel empty without her in them.

Emma's awake again, and her eyes search desperately for his during the transfer. Graham hurries to stay by her side, reclaiming her hand, their fingers slipping together, skin rough with drying blood.

"Don't leave me," Emma begs, and the voice is small and fragile, so unlike her that tears rise unexpectedly in Graham's eyes.

"Never," he promises, climbing into the ambulance beside her.

"Excuse me, Sheriff."

Graham freezes at the voice, the cold purr that's always been far too familiar. He turns. Regina is standing in the doors of the ambulance, her expression utterly calm.

"I'm sure you're not planning on leaving an unsecure crime scene. As far as I can tell, the intruder could still be inside." Regina's eyes flash, her lips curling into a smirk. "I wouldn't want the whole town to see you acting…unprofessional."

Graham clenches his jaw, hatred choking him. She has him, and she knows it.

He doesn't spare Regina another look. "Em…" He touches her cheek. "I've got to secure the scene. I…I'm going to meet you at the hospital." Fear clouds her vision, but she just nods. Still trying to be brave. Still trying not to need him. "I'm so sorry…"

"Can you…get…Mary Margaret." Again, the tone sounds nothing like Emma, even in the most vulnerable moments he's seen her in thus far. She sounds like…the truth hits him and breaks his heart. She sounds like a child asking for her mother. Except she has no idea.

Suddenly, Graham notices blood trickling from the side of Emma's mouth, and a dizzying wave of fear crashes into him. He grips her hand tighter, suddenly aware of how quickly she needs to get to a hospital.

He kisses her knuckles. "I'll be right there. I promise."

Then he's outside, watching the doors close.

_Mary Margaret_. Graham scans the crowd; apparently the whole town had heard about the commotion in at the Mayor's house, minus the school teacher.

Graham heads toward the crowd and grabs the nearest person to him, David Nolan, who had been there when they arrived. "Can you call Mary Margaret?"

David doesn't answer him, doesn't even appear to hear. He's staring after the ambulance with a horrorstruck expression, as if the whole world had just fallen out under his feet.

_Emma's father_, Graham remembers, the realization still mind boggling. Graham stares at David, transfixed by the look on the other man's face, and the fact that he probably has no idea why he's reacting so strongly. Graham's hatred for Regina hardens; he wouldn't be surprised if she'd asked David and Kathryn over for dinner just for this purpose.

"Miss Blanchard!" The voice, tearful and frantic, cuts through Graham's daze. He turns to see Henry running toward the street, where Mary Margaret is just emerging from her car.

The ten year old slams into her, sobbing. Fear crawls the length of her spine as her arms automatically embrace the boy. "Henry, what is it, what happened?"

His voice is unintelligible, muffled against her stomach, but somewhere in the jumbled mess Mary Margaret hears her roommate's name, and her chest constricts painfully.

Her eyes survey the scene over Henry's head, searching in vain for the familiar head of blonde hair. Instead, she sees Graham, and his face tells her too much.

Gently, Mary Margaret pushes Henry back, keeping an arm around him as she walks forward, already sick to her stomach. "What happened?" Her voice is shaking, but she determinedly meets Graham's eyes. "Where's Emma?"

"The hospital." His voice is hoarse, and thick with the tears that are suddenly threatening him. "She got shot, she…she's bleeding." The word breaks in the middle, a sob rounding in his throat. So much blood.

Mary Margaret bends forward, doubling over slightly as if his words are something physical, crashing against her. "Oh, God…" It's fast; the news settles over her and in the next second she's blinded by tears. Questions rise in her throat, but her _how bad is it?_ gets lost in a sob, because Graham's face has told her how bad it is.

Then she's really crying, and it is this that seems to snap David from his trance. His arms go around her in seconds, and Mary Margaret can't be bothered to remember why they shouldn't be.

"She was asking for you," Graham manages to get out before he turns away from them. He heads toward the house, leaving Mary Margaret crying in David's arms, leaving Henry bawling beside them. He leaves them to figure out transportation to the hospital, leaves them without warning that Kathryn is approaching the group, dread on her face.

Securing the crime scene is a formality, and Regina knows it. But he will play her game, just for these few minutes. Just so he can get back to Emma.

"You don't seem to be in much of a hurry, Sheriff," her voice curls around him as soon as he enters the house.

"And you don't seem to be worried about danger," he retorts, turning a cold gaze on Regina, stepping out of the shadows like the evil being she is.

The air is thick between them, the Truth filling the spaces. He remembers, and she knows it, but she also knows there's nothing he can do it about it.

"You did this," he growls. "You set us up, you set _her_…" His voice falters, and Graham lowers his eyes, stomach lurching as he notices the amount of blood on him, staining his heads and streaking up his forearms.

"Now, now," Regina chides mildly. "The mayor staging an armed robbery at her own home. That all sounds awfully paranoid. Not what people want in a sheriff."

His whole body is tense, and he feels an old, old instinct swelling in him. The wolf's instinct to attack.

"Although it's funny…" Regina brushes past him, her voice affecting an offhand tone. "Though it solves many more problems, I wasn't quite ready to resort to killing her yet. Wasn't quite ready to do that to Henry." She laughs. "I'm sentimental that way. I told the man to go after you." Regina turns again, narrowed eyes locking with his. "I wonder what went wrong."

Graham seizes her arm, roughly. "You won't get away with this."

"On the contrary, I'm sure I will," Regina replies, unruffled. "Most of your evidence comes from theories about…_curses_ and _magic._ And that all sounds like the ramblings of a mad man." She winks. "Of course, there's also my confession but…I think you'll find it difficult to catch me so forthright again. Just a hunch."

She leaves him, then. Leaves him with a dark, empty house, with blood on his hands, his ears echoing with a gunshot and Emma's voice, begging him not to leave her.

His legs give out beneath him, and Graham sits down, hard, in an undignified heap in the Mayor's house, puts his head in his hands, and cries.

~OUAT~

_A/N: So. Hopefully some of you are intrigued. Some blanks need to be filled in, of course…so next chapter will go back AND forward…filling in the week before this happened, then pick up right where we left off. Reviews make my day, so leave your thoughts if you can! Hope you enjoyed._


	2. No Comfort

_A/N: Whoa! Thank you guys for the awesome response…so glad you're intrigued by this idea. This is kind of a longer chapter, so hope you guys see that as a good thing! Chapter title comes from "What Sarah Said" by Death Cab for Cutie. Very accurate lyrics to this chapter._

_Also, there's a little more David/Mary Margaret in this chapter, so just to refresh your memory, we're about a week after 1.07 in the timeline…in other words, David's decided to he needs to try to stay with Kathryn after getting his (fake) memories back._

No Comfort 

_Amongst the vending machines and year-old magazines in a place where we only say goodbye  
>It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds<br>But I knew that you were a truth I would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all  
>And I looked around at all the eyes on the ground as the TV entertained itself<em>

_'Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room_  
><em>Just nervous pacers bracing for bad news<em>  
><em>And then the nurse comes round and everyone will lift their heads<em>  
><em>But I'm thinking of what Sarah said that "Love is watching someone die"<em>

"David?"

Though David doesn't loosen his grip on her, Mary Margaret automatically moves away from him at the sound of Kathryn's voice.

The blonde woman is hovering nervously apart from the group, eyes on her husband. "What are you doing?"

David's glance moves from Kathryn to Mary Margaret. He still seems dazed, like he's having a hard time pulling himself into the reality of the moment. "I'm…I'm giving Mary Margaret a ride to the hospital," he answers finally, definitively. He shifts his gaze slowly to Mary Margaret, looking strangely desperate. "If that's okay?"

She can only nod mutely. There's no sense pretending she's up to driving at the moment.

"Oh. Um. Alright, just…call me if you'll be there long?" There's a defeated note in Kathryn's voice, like she wants to protest and merely lacks a good reason.

David can barely nod. He puts a hand on Mary Margaret's back, face grim. "Let's go."

"Wait…"

Mary Margaret glances down at the sound of his voice; she'd almost forgotten about Henry, but now he lifts himself up from the grass, swiping his sleeve messily across his eyes. "I wanna go with you. Please?"

Mary Margaret puts an arm around him. "Of course you can." Henry's face breaks into a relieved expression.

The three of them are halfway to David's car when Regina materializes behind them. "Henry," she says sharply. "Come back here, Mrs. Lionel said you can go next door to her house until the sheriff gives us the clear."

Henry looks up at her, his expression defiant. "I wanna go to the hospital."

"Don't be ridiculous," the mayor's tone is dismissive. She tugs Henry by the arm. "There's no need for you to be there, you'll only be in the way."

Henry jerks around, looking pleadingly up at Mary Margaret. His chin's trembling, his eyes pools of fear. "Miss Blanchard?"

Mary Margaret meets Regina's eyes, sighing. "Madame Mayor, we'd be happy to give Henry a ride-"

"That won't be necessary, thank you." Regina's clipped tone is mild, but ice cold, her eyes flashing with the hatred she only saves for Mary Margaret and, lately, Emma.

Some tiny spark of anger flares in Mary Margaret's chest. "You can't keep him from her, not _now _of all-"

"_Actually_, Miss Blanchard, I can do whatever I please. _I_ am his mother. You may be his teacher, unfortunately, but right now, you have no right to my son. And neither does that woman." Regina glances at Henry, who's glaring up at her, then lowers her tone, suddenly oozing false sympathy. "It really doesn't look good for Miss Swan, and I think it's better he isn't around to see that."

Mary Margaret's stomach plummets at the words. Somehow, she knowsRegina isn't exaggerating too much; the lost, hopeless expression on Graham's face is all too clear in her mind.

Henry's face crumples at Regina's all too audible words, and this time he's too busy fighting tears to resist when his mother pulls him away.

"C'mon," David mutters, his voice tense. He's already turning and heading to the car.

But Mary Margaret doesn't move. Something has occurred to her. "Regina?"

The mayor turns, impatient. "Yes?"

"Where's Graham? Why didn't he go with her?" The accusation is unspoken, but obvious in her voice.

Regina nearly smirks. "As I reminded him, he has a job to do. There was an intruder in my home. We wouldn't want him being unprofessional…no matter what state Deputy Swan is in."

David suddenly steps between the two women, glaring at Regina before touching Mary Margaret's arm, gently nudging her away. "C'mon. Let's go."

~OUAT~

_One Week Earlier_

_It's one of those moments she knows she will never be able to shake._

_Emma is dimly aware that, eventually, she will have to move forward. She will have to stand up, to try to pull herself together. Call an ambulance and confirm what she already knows. She will have to watch them take his body away. She will have to answer questions._

_But she knows, even as it happens, that she will never forget this feeling: sitting on the floor of the sheriff's office, Graham's head on her lap, his body ragdoll limp on the floor, his taste lingering on her lips, his pulse nonexistent beneath her fingers._

_The silence of the office is oppressive, suffocating. The air feels thick with it, and every so often Emma has to make a conscious effort to gasp for air. _

_His head is warm and heavy in her lap. She tangles one of her hands in his soft, brown curls, and every once in awhile she feels the wetness of her own tears drip onto her fingers. _

_She tried. She had tried so hard, pumping his chest with an increasing urgency that was almost angry, as though he was making one of his unsuccessful jokes and if she only screamed his name loud enough, Graham would open his eyes._

_But he didn't. And now she is out of options._

I should call someone,_ some distant corner of her brain still has the ability to think. But her body won't seem to listen; she doesn't move. Moving forward would mean admitting what had happened. It meant someone would come and take Graham away._

_Then comes the moment. Instantaneously, the shock and numbness dissolve, and the pain of reality hits her all at once. It's like slamming against a wall in pitch black dark, startling and physically painful. A scream rises in Emma's throat, but what escapes is a low, keening note of pure grief the shatters the silence. _

_For a just a second, it feels like dying._

_Then, she feels something shift beneath her, and a low, pained moan that isn't coming from her rises up._

_Emma freezes, staring down._

_Graham's face contorts. His eyes flutter._

_And beneath her hand, his heart begins beating._

~OUAT~

When Graham pulls himself together, he stands, suddenly purposeful. He does a swift, cursory walk through of the mayor's house. Unsurprisingly, he finds no evidence of the intrude;. Regina will have planned the escape for whoever she hired.

Graham leaves the house in relief, not even bothering to give Regina an update. He's felt lightheaded and sick from the moment Emma fell against him, and he's suddenly sure he'll lose it if he has to spend another second wondering if she's still alive.

Graham is ducking into the squad car when he hears, "Sheriff, wait!"

He straightens and turns; Henry's running toward him, panting and furtive. The boy ducks behind the car, shielded from the crowd in his yard. "Can I come with you? Please?"

Graham runs a hand through his hair, uncertain. "Henry, I don't know…" He glances toward the crowd, searching for Regina. "Does your mother know where you are?"

Henry shakes his head. "No, I'm supposed to be in Mrs. Lionel's house next door. But I _need_ to see Emma." When Graham hesitates, Henry added, "_Please_. The Queen said…she said it was really bad."

Graham closes his eyes. "Emma's going to be fine," he states resolutely. He finally opens the car door. "C'mon, let's go see her."

The first few minutes of the drive is quiet, both Henry and Graham lost in their own worry.

"Graham?" Henry asks eventually in a small voice.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Do you think…do you think the Queen planned this?"

Graham's quiet for a moment, uncomfortable. Thanks to his book, Henry knows far too much already. But he still has to live with Regina, and Graham doesn't want him any more scared of the woman than he already is. "I don't think so, Henry."

Henry shoots him a look that would be comical in any other situation; it seems to suggest that Graham is hopelessly naïve. "_Really_? But…she tried to get you to kill Snow White. Maybe she got someone to try to kill Emma?"

_Or me_, Graham thinks to himself, his stomach clenching with guilt.

He's starting to regret going to Henry once his memories started returning. The first day, he'd merely been panicked and confused, the memories too disjointed to put together without more information. By the time he remembered completely, he was still limited. He'd known The Queen was planning a curse, but he didn't know much of what it entailed. And Henry was the one who'd explained about Emma's role in breaking it.

"I don't know," Graham says finally. "But Henry…you don't have anything to worry about. Regina, she…she isn't going to hurt you."

"I know." Henry looks up at the sheriff, tears filling his eyes. "But…if she did something to Emma, and Emma…if Emma dies...it's _my_ fault."

"What?" Graham cuts his eyes at Henry as the car pulls into a visitor's parking space at the hospital. "Henry, of course it's not."

"Yeah, it is," he continues miserably, eyes downcast. "_I _brought Emma here. She and the Queen are always fighting about _me_."

For a long moment, Graham stares at Henry. Then, he gets out of the car and moved around to the passenger side, opening the door. "Come here." He waits until Henry slowly gets out, standing in the parking lot beside him. Graham kneels on one knee, looking the boy seriously in the eye. "Listen. First of all. Emma's not going to die." Just the words tangle in his throat, and Graham has to swallow hard. "Second of all, nothing that happened tonight is your fault. And Emma…she is so glad that you brought here. Henry, she loves you. More than anything."

Henry's eyes widen in surprise. "She does?"

Graham nods. "I'm sure of it." He squeezes Henry's shoulder. "Come on. We'll check on her together."

~OUAT~

"_Em…Emma?" Confused, Graham's eyes focus on hers. He slowly pulls himself to a sitting position. The room tilts and spins, and he grabs instinctively at her hand, steadying himself. "What happened?"_

_For the first time, he catches a glimpse of Emma's face, tear streaked and ghostly pale. She's staring at him like he might dissolve in front of her eyes. His eyebrows knit together in concern. "Are you okay?"_

_The absurdity of _him_ asking _her_ that question hits her, and Emma makes a sound that's half laugh, half sob. "Graham…" Just saying his name does her in, and her voice breaks into pieces, the tears coming again._

_Then her arms are around him, her face tucked against his neck. It's been ten years since she's been this vulnerable, since she's let herself _feel_ this much. _

_But Emma can't help it. Graham was dead just long enough for her to realize what she almost lost. And now, somehow, he's alive. _

_She's crying again, breathless sobs of leftover panic dovetailing with sheer relief. Startled, Graham tightens his arms around her, both of them still on their knees on the floor. "Hey…" His hand makes soothing circles on her back, the other cupping the back of her head, threading through strands of her hair. "What's wrong?"_

"_What's _wrong_?" Emma repeats incredulously, pulling back to stare him. "Graham, you…you were _dead_. Your heart…" Her voice is a broken, quivering mess, and Emma cringes at the sound of it. The shock is starting to wear off, and she makes a focused effort to pull herself together. "Your heart stopped."_

"_My heart…" Graham repeats, touching his palm to his chest as if to confirm its presence. "Right."_

_Of course it stopped. The Queen had always threatened to destroy his heart the second he defied her. Though he didn't know that a few hours ago…apparently the consequences had carried over into Storybrooke._

_The only thing he doesn't understand is why he's still alive._

"_We need to call a doctor, we need to get you checked out…"_

"_No, don't," he counters quickly, grabbing Emma's wrist. "I'm okay. I promise."_

"_Graham, you are _not_ okay. Your heart stopped. For a …a really long time." She grits her teeth. Focus. "That isn't normal."_

"_Listen to me." Graham stands up, grabbing Emma's hand and pulling her to her feet with him. He smiles softly at her, his voice gentle. "I'm fine now. I wouldn't lie to you." He steps closer, his knuckles grazing her cheek. "Promise."_

_He doesn't know what it is about Emma Swan, but he'd felt it the first time they spoke. Something about Emma had made him feel something. She made him _want_ again. They were small things, like wanting to make her smile, or just wanting to see her, but they felt absolutely foreign. _

_And now, somehow…she's made him remember._

_Emma closes her eyes. Those walls Mary Margaret had mentioned are practically piles of dust at the moment, but she's too exhausted to care, too exhausted to stop herself from whispering, "You scared me."_

"_I'm sorry," Graham answers. He touches an errant strand of hair that had fallen from Emma's ponytail, absently worrying it between his fingers. "But I'm okay now. Everything's okay._

_Emma exhales shakily. She lets herself lean against Graham, and she lets herself believe him. She can't remember the last time she trusted a man, but when Graham's arms go around her, she can't deny the overwhelming, unfamiliar feeling of safety. _

~OUAT~

Mary Margaret feels dizzy, her brain sluggishly trying to process the information the doctor has just given her.

More than anything, what registers is what the doctors _aren't_ saying. They aren't saying that Emma will be fine. That it is a simple surgery, an easy fix.

They aren't saying that of course she won't die.

"Is…is she awake?"

"On and off," Dr. Whale replies, his demeanor entirely professional, as though Mary Margaret is someone he's never met before. "You can see her if you want, but we need to get her into the OR as soon as possible…the surgical team will be here to move her in about ten minutes."

"Thank you," Mary Margaret replies numbly.

As soon as Dr. Whale walks away, David, who's been hovering in the background, approaches Mary Margaret. "What'd he say? Is she alright?"

"No," Mary Margaret's voice is shaking. "No, she isn't, she…he said there could be a lot of damage, and she's lost a blood and…they're doing surgery, but they said it's hard to assess how much damage gunshot wounds have done until they open her up…" Tears well in her eyes, yet again, and Mary Margaret blinks them back. She needs to hold herself together to go see Emma.

David is nodding for far too long, the muscles in his face tight. "Okay…alright…." He touches Mary Margaret's shoulder. "She's going to be fine."

Mary Margaret jerks away from him, suddenly, irrationally angry. "You _don't_ know that." She turns away from him. "You don't have to stay."

"I want to."

"I'm fine," she insists stubbornly. "I don't need you to sit here and watch over me, David. Besides…Kathryn's probably waiting for you." Immediately, Mary Margaret winces at how bitter she sounds. Forcing a more rational tone, she adds, "Besides, Graham will be here soon. I won't be waiting alone."

"I know," David voice is quiet, his expression conflicted. "I just…I want to stay. Please. I just…I want to make sure Emma's okay."

Mary Margaret shoots him a long, searching look. She can see he's sincere, not just bluffing to hover around her, and she doesn't quite understand it. He barely knows Emma. Finally, though, she shrugs, unable to deny him. "Okay. Fine. I'm going to go see her, before they take her down to surgery."

"Alright." David watches Mary Margaret disappear behind the curtain of Emma's trauma bay, then slowly makes his way back to the waiting room.

Emma's eyes are closed when Mary Margaret enters. Her chest constricting, the brunette move closer to her roommate's bed. Emma looks so small and helpless, pale against the sheets, blood dripping into her arm to replace what she lost.

"Oh, Emma…" Mary Margaret's fingers graze her hair, her touch gentle.

Emma's eyes open then, glazed and unfocused, and it takes her a moment to see Mary Margaret. "Hi," she says weakly.

"Hey…" Mary Margaret immediately takes her hand, squeezing gently. "How do you feel?"

"Okay," Emma tells her bravely, though pain is evident in her expression.

"They're taking you to surgery in a minute," Mary Margaret tells her thickly, trying to smile. "You'll be okay."

Emma nods. "Where's…Graham?"

"He's on his way," Mary Margaret assures her, hoping by now that it's true.. "Regina kept him back, but..he's on his way."

Emma nods again, her breaths increasingly shallow. "Thanks for coming," she says softly.

"Of course. I'll be here the whole time."

It happens so fast. One moment Emma is gripping Mary Margaret's hand, trying to smile, and in the next second her face twists in pain, a whimper slipping from her lips. Her fingers go slack in Mary Margaret's, and suddenly her eyes close, the beeping on a monitor becoming more frantic, the beeping urgent and panicked.

Doctors and nurses swarm the tiny trauma bay, brushing Mary Margaret aside, transferring Emma and a complicated amount of wires to a stretcher.

"What's happening?" she demands, voice tightening. "What wrong with her?"

"We have to get her to the OR right away," one of the doctors says, but he's not talking to her. He surveys the team. "C'mon, let's move."

Just like that Emma's gone, and Mary Margaret is left alone behind the tiny, drab curtain.

That's where David finds her, five minutes later, sitting on the empty bed, her face in her hands, body wracked with sobs.

"Hey…" He's beside her in an instant, pulling her against his chest, and for a second, Mary Margaret doesn't care why he's there. She's just glad he is. "It's okay…it'll be alright…"

He holds her for a long time, as her sobs slowly dwindle. Mary Margaret breathes deeply, taking in the scent of David, marveling as always at how familiar and comforting it seems, like some smell from long ago that's associated with _home_ and _love_ and _belonging._

It's strange. She's lived in Storybrooke her whole life, has known most of the people as long as she can remember, yet David and Emma, two people she's known for a matter of months, rather than years, are the first people she's felt close to in ages. Connection is a strange thing, but she'd felt it with both of them, almost right away, and it was only then that she realized how lonely she'd been for so long.

At the thought, a fresh wave of tears threaten her, and Mary Margaret reluctantly pushes away from David and sits up. "She can't die," she whispers in a broken voice.

"She won't," David murmurs, his voice soothing, his thumb grazing her cheek.

"She's my best friend," Mary Margaret says, maybe the first time in her life she's ever used the phrase. "Before she came here, there was…there was no one, and if she dies…" Her voice falters.

"Hey…" David's eyes lock with hers, the strength of his gaze intense. Somehow, he knows the unspoken end of her statement. "You are _not_ going to be alone."

Reality crashes against her, and Mary Margaret turns her face away from his touch. "Who would I have, David?" she asks him. "_You_?" She laughs once, humorlessly. "You chose Kathryn."

He lowers his eyes, and it's a long time before he says in a painfully quiet voice, "I didn't choose. I wouldn't have…" David's voice trails off.

Mary Margaret stands abruptly, brushing the back of her hand across her cheeks. "I don't want to do this now," she says firmly. "This is about Emma."

"Right," David replies reluctantly, standing too. "I just came to find you because…Graham and Henry are here. They were hoping to see Emma." His eyes flick to the empty bed. "But I guess they already took her."

"They had to…rush her in," Mary Margaret tells him dully. "Cardiac arrest, I don't…I don't even know if she made it to the OR."

"They'd have told us if she didn't," David reassures her softly. He starts to put an arm around her shoulder, but immediately checks himself. Instead, they walk back to the waiting room in silence, several feet apart, not reaching out for each other.

~OUAT~

_In spite of her exhaustion, Emma doesn't sleep well that night. _

_Even after she'd very reluctantly parted ways with Graham, she couldn't stop worrying, doubting her decision to blindly trust him rather than forcibly drag him to a hospital._

_So she wakes up every hour or so, heart hammering in her chest and his name scratching at her throat, lost in the moment when Graham collapsed, lifeless._

_The second she's awake and dressed the next morning, Emma goes to the kitchen, beating Mary Margaret for once. She'd thought she could wait until her usual arrival time at the station, but the idea suddenly seems laughable, and Emma grabs the phone and dials Graham's number, mentally running through excuses as the dial tone rings in her ears._

_Four rings pass. Then seven. Nine. Graham apparently doesn't have a voicemail set up, and Emma's lungs constrict painfully, a tidal wave of panic sweeping over her. Images flash in her mind. Graham, collapsed in the floor of his apartment, alone. Going to sleep last night and never waking up. Not even making it back to his apartment, collapsing against the wheel and veering off the road…_

"_Hello?" The soft, accented lilt of his voice hits her, and Emma's knees go liquid beneath her. For a moment, the force of her relief leaves her speechless, until Graham speaks again, "Hello?"_

"_You need to answer your damn phone faster," Emma snaps harshly. _

_There's a pause, then, "Good morning to you, too." She can hear the smile in his voice, and it infuriates her.  
><em>

"_I'm serious, Graham. It's irresponsible, not to mention _rude_." To Emma's utter humiliation, there's a badly concealed tremor in her voice.  
><em>

_The teasing note drops from Graham's voice immediately, and it becomes all warmth and understanding. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear it the phone, I was in the other room." He pauses, then asks, that endearing, almost shy note slipping into his voice. "I was about to head out, stop by Granny's before work…you want to meet for breakfast?"_

_Emma can't help but smile now. That hopeful, hesitant eager to please tone was one of the first things she'd liked about him. The sweet, dorky quality Graham possessed seemed so incongruous with his looks. From her experience, the exceedingly handsome men were the ones who knew it, who were always playing some sort of game, everything they said dripping with a hint of arrogance. Yet Graham seemed so utterly genuine she'd been pulled in immediately._

_In a way, that was why she'd been so irrationally betrayed when she found out about him and Regina. It was the lie as much as anything else, the realization that he was just another two faced guy you never really knew._

_Now, though she hates the thought of Graham and Regina together, she doesn't blame him. How can she? The man she'd seen yesterday had been desperate, his eyes like a lost, lonely little boy when he confessed that he didn't feel anything. He'd gotten caught in Regina's trap, just like everyone else in this town._

But not anymore_, Emma reminds herself, her chest swelling with hope. He'd followed her out of the cemetery. He'd kissed her. Maybe, somehow, _she'd_ been the one to make him feel something again. _

"_Breakfast?" she repeats finally. "Graham, you shouldn't even be coming into work today. You need to rest." _

"_But I feel great," he counters. "And…I want to see you."_

_Emma's smiling again, but she heaves a dramatic sigh into the phone. "Alright. At least I can keep an eye on you. I'll meet you at Granny's in fifteen minutes?"_

"_Great. I'll see you soon, Em."_

_There's a click, and Emma is left standing there with an oddly giddy smile on her face. She thinks that it's the first time in years that someone has shortened her name like that, and it's such a small thing to be happy about, but even small pleasures have been a rarity for most of her life._

"_Now who could that have possibly been?" _

_Emma whirls around; Mary Margaret is behind her, a mock innocent expression on her face. "Your boss, I imagine?"_

"_Shut up," Emma scoffs, but she can feel the heat rising to her cheeks. She feels about twelve years old._

_A grin slowly spreads on Mary Margaret's face. "_Look_ at you, you can't stop smiling. Good night, I take it?"_

_Emma pauses, considering. "It was…pretty bad. Then really good. Then horrible. Then…good again?"_

_Mary Margaret's eyebrows shot up. "That's intriguing. Details." _

_With a glance at her watch, Emma smiles apologetically. "It's kind of a long story. I'll tell you tonight."_

_Mary Margaret nods, only slightly disappointed. "Sure. You've gotta get to Granny's, I imagine."_

_Emma throws a balled up napkin at her, then leaves the apartment._

~OUAT~

After his memory returned, Graham became painfully aware of just how long he'd been trapped in Storybrooke…28 long years, and he'd suddenly felt every second of them.

And yet, he's sure time has never moved slower than right _now_, during Emma's surgery, nothing to do but wait.

It's the middle of the night by now. Several hours have passed, but they feel more like several lifetimes.

Henry is finally asleep, stretched across several chairs, his head in Mary Margaret's lap. In spite of her earlier protests, Regina hasn't come to fetch him, though she must know where he is.

David and Mary Margaret sit beside each other, though they haven't spoken since they returned to the waiting room. David got up once to answer a phone call, but since then he has been silent, seemingly locked in a fear he can't quite make sense of.

Graham sits across from the others, alone in a row of chairs, unconsciously separating himself from the fragmented family.

His mind is cycling through thoughts, uselessly occupying itself by reliving moments with Emma. Occasionally the thread of these thoughts unravels, and Graham finds himself careening toward a cliff of statements that start with _If she dies…_

Each time, he pulls himself back, unable to even consider the possibility.

Finally, Dr. Whale comes around the corner, and Graham's entire body stiffens, relief and terror colliding. He's on his feet, and so is David. Mary Margaret nudges Henry gently, murmurs his name, but Dr. Whale holds up his hand, "Don't wake the boy."

Immediately, terror knifes through Graham. If it was good news, surely the doctor would they'd want Henry to hear it.

He can see this conclusion reflected in David and Mary Margaret's anxious expressions, but Graham is the one who manages to force out, his voice hoarse, "Is she…" His voice catches, unable to finish the thought.

"She's alive," Dr. Whale confirms.

Graham falls back against the wall, suddenly unable to hold himself up, letting out a ragged breath. The relief barely has time to settle, though, before Dr. Whale continues.

"But there were complications."

"Wh-what complications?" Mary Margaret's voice is barely audible.

"The bullet did a lot of damage, but she's lucky it wasn't worse. We had to remove her pancreas, and due extensive repairs to one lung-"

"What _happened_?" David demands, speaking for the first time in hours. His hands are balled into fists at his side, a muscle jumping in his jaw. His eyes widen slightly, as though his harsh tone surprised even him, but he merely continues, "What were the complications?"

Dr. Whale makes slow, deliberate eye contact with all of them. "She flatlined during surgery…her heart stopped. It took us awhile to get it started again, so…she was without oxygen for a long time. That means…she might not wake up. And even if she does, we can't predict what sort of brain damage may have been sustained."

Mary Margaret emits a small cry, but Graham is shaking his head, words tumbling out, anger burning in his chest. "No, no, that isn't…that isn't right. You're wrong."

All he can think is that his heart stopped for nearly five minutes. His heart was _nonexistent_, for years, and yet he is alive. He is fine. So this doctor is lying, he's wrong about Emma, because no way Graham survives what she can't…

"I'm very sorry," Dr. Whale says, though his tone doesn't sound it. "I know this is difficult to hear. Right now…the most we can do is wait. If she doesn't wake up in the next twenty-four hours…we may need to reassess."

The doctor walks away, then, leaving them in stunned silence until Henry mumbles something incomprehensible, shifting slightly before sitting up, slowly blinking at his surroundings. "Wha…what happened? Is Emma out of surgery?" He looks from David to Graham to Mary Margaret. "Is she okay?"

Graham turns away abruptly, the bitter acidic taste of bile rising in his throat.

Regina did this. All of it. Emma's face fills his mind, and his hand drifts absently to his heart, checking its presence, as though the ache in his chest isn't enough of a confirmation.

Being with Emma…it makes him _feel_ again. It is the most human he has ever been.

Yet now, there is something animalistic and feral about his anger. Graham feels full to bursting with rage, so strong that he can't see straight. It's been ages, a whole lifetime, since he felt this _wild_. This out of control.

The room spins and blurs in front of him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, a low growl rising in his throat.

Before he can stop himself, he's disappearing down a corridor, upending a cart of medical supplies, a scream that might be coming from his echoing around him, before he drives his fist against the hard, solid wall.

~OUAT~

_A/N : So I hope the jumping back and forth in time wasn't confusing. We'll be doing that again next chapter, so we can fill in the rest of the circumstances of Emma and Graham's first week post-kissing-and-near-death, plus what led them to Regina's house with an armed robber. This was a fun chapter to write, so I'd love to hear what you all think. Reviews keep me writing! _


	3. Scream In, Scream Out

_A/N: Hey guys! Thanks so much for all the feedback, you guys are great. I won't ramble too much here at the beginning…chapter title/lyrics come from "Just the Way I'm Feeling" by Feeder._

_Love in, love out, find the feeling_  
><em>Scream in, scream out, time for healing<em>  
><em>You feel the moments gone too soon,<em>  
><em>You're watching clouds come over you.<em>

_Torn in two,_  
><em>You close your eyes for some place new,<em>  
><em>Torn in two<em>

_And I feel it's going down,_  
><em>Ten feet below the ground,<em>  
><em>I'm waiting for your healing hand,<em>  
><em>One touch could bring me round,<em>  
><em>I feel we're going down,<em>  
><em>Ten feet below the ground,<em>  
><em>It's just the way I'm feeling<em>

His body goes rigid as Henry watches Graham overturn a cart in the middle of the hallway. Medical supplies flew everywhere, but the crash is drowned out by the string of raw, maniacal screams tearing from Graham's throat. He slams his hand, clenched into a fist, into the hospital's wall, and Henry jumps, the screams going quiet long enough for him to hear the sickening crunch of bone.

"Emma's dead, isn't she?" His voice is tiny, the words barely making it around the lump in his throat.

"No, no, honey, she's alive." Mary Margaret turns him away from Graham, and Henry's dimly aware of David rushing forward, down the hall after the sheriff.

Henry gazes up at his teacher. There are tears on her cheeks, new ones, and his stomach twists into knots, fear breathing in his ear like a monster. "So, then...what's wrong?"

Mary Margaret brushes her fingers under eyes before sitting back down in the chair, eye level with Henry. "Emma's out of surgery. They said she was lucky the bullet damage wasn't worse, so they were able to fix what did happen. The only thing is…" Her voice falters. "They just said she isn't out of the woods for sure yet. We still have to wait until she wakes up to make sure everything's okay."

He's never told her, but Henry's pretty sure he inherited Emma's superpower. He's good at knowing when grown-ups are lying to him. Like the Queen, lying when she dismissed his questions about why he was the kid in town who got older, who kept moving onto other grades. Or the way she lies about his book being nonsense. Or Emma, when she pretends to believe. He knows she doesn't yet, that she just doesn't want to hurt him, but that's okay. The hero never believes in the beginning.

And now, Mary Margaret is lying to him. He doesn't even need his superpower to know that, not the way Graham freaked out. "So what's wrong with Graham?'

"He's just...he had a tough night, Henry. He's frustrated." She's blinking a lot, but finally, clumsily, she manages a smile. "Do you want to go see Emma?"

He nods, relieved that at least he's allowed that much.

His teacher slips her hand into his, and they walk through the hospital. Henry wonders if Mary Margaret even knows how much she's shaking.

~OUAT~

"_Morning."_

_Graham's voice is the first thing Emma hears when she steps into Granny's. He's already sitting in a booth, waiting for her, and she's glad because the second it takes for him to stand up is just long enough for Emma to swallow her instinct to run into his arms, propelled by the sheer relief that comes only from actually seeing that he's alright._

_As it is, it takes her a few seconds to find her voice. "Hey." Her eyes search his face intently, looking for any signs of fatigue or sickness. "How are you, do you feel okay?"_

"_Emma," his voice is gentle, but with finality. "I am okay. I feel great. I swear. Now _sit_." Rolling her eyes at him, she slides into the booth, trying to catch Ruby's eye until Graham says, "I already ordered for you. Hot chocolate? With cinnamon." _

_Emma slid her gaze to look at him, lifting an eyebrow. "Ordering for me, huh?"_

_Doubt flashes in Graham's eyes. "Is that okay? That's what you always get, right?"_

_She smiles. Really, she needs coffee today, after the restless sleep last night, but she likes that he's noticed her usual. "Yeah, it is. Thanks."_

_His smiles a smile that's laced with relief, and Emma's face softens. It's been years since she's had a relationship, and even then they were all bad ones. She can't remember the last time someone looked at her the way Graham does, can't remember the last time anyone made any sort of effort to make her happy. _

_Ruby brings their drinks then, and the second the aroma of cocoa and cinnamon hits her, Emma's grateful for his choice._

"_How's your head?" Graham asks, his eyes flickering to the cut above her eye._

"_Oh, it's fine," Emma says dismissively, resisting the urge to ask him again about any residual chest pain._

"_Good." He winces a little. "I'm sorry, that you got caught up in that. I never meant for you to get hurt. She shouldn't have blamed you."_

_Emma scoffs, shaking her head wryly. "There's not a lot Regina wouldn't blame on me, given half an excuse. And it's not your fault she's horrible."_

_Graham's expression darkens. "Emma…"_

"_Sorry, too harsh?"_

_He shakes his head, sighing, the first spark of worry flaring in his chest. "It's just…be careful, going up against Regina. She's more powerful then you think."_

"_I'm not afraid of her," Emma states defiantly. _

_Graham looks away, thinking to himself that maybe she should be. Because he remembers. He remembers his heart being ripped from his chest, being sent to murder Snow White (who, if Henry had it right, is Emma's…mother?). Even last night, whatever had stopped his heart…that was Regina._

_She wants him dead. Maybe even thinks he is now.  
><em>

_He's been quiet for awhile and Emma frowns, uncertain. "You okay?"_

"_Yeah." He smiles again, but this time it's forced. "I just…I care about you, Emma." He pauses, like he's checking her reaction, making sure it's okay for him to say that. She smiles. "I don't want you to get hurt."_

_Her smile falters at that, her eyes snapping away from his. She barely bites back a retort that she can take care of herself. _

_It's foreign to her, having someone worry about her. Storybrooke has unnerved her. First Mary Margaret, and now Graham, seem to genuinely care about her. It's absolutely foreign, just like it is to realize that Henry seems to need her, maybe the first time in her life anyone has._

"_Em?"_

_The name softens her, and she looks at him. "I hate to keep bringing it up…but you're the one who nearly died last night, Graham. You shouldn't be worrying about me." He starts to protest, but she covers his hand with hers, squeezing gently. "I can handle Regina."_

_Graham doesn't know how to protest, so he just smiles back, turning his hand over so he can hook their fingers together. "I know."_

_They hold on for a moment, until Emma catches sight of Ruby, smirking knowingly at them, and she gently disentangles their fingers._

"_What?" Graham follows her gaze, then gives her a mock-offended look. "Oh, I see. Are you embarrassed by me?"_

"No_," Emma scowls at him. "Just… everyone's gonna start thinking, you know…the deputy and the sheriff, big scandal…"_

_He laughs. "So what if they do?"_

_To her utmost irritation, Emma can feel herself flushing. "Um…"_

"_C'mere." Graham slaps some cash down on the table, more than they need, and grabs Emma's hand, his tone suddenly urgent. "Follow me, hurry."_

_Bewildered, Emma lets him pull her from the booth, and hurries after him, leaving Granny's, practically jogging to keep up with his swift pace down the sidewalk. "What the hell are we-"_

_He spins around, and her questions fall on his lips as he pulls her to him, kissing her fervently._

_She's caught by surprise, but after a second, Emma relaxes into it, pressing her body against his, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer. His hands tangle in her hair, and for a moment everything's a rush of lips and tongues and teeth. When he pulls back, finally, Emma stares up at him, breathless. "What was all the running for?"_

_His eyes twinkle. "Well, I figured I'd better get you out of a public place if I wanted to kiss you." He leans forward, his lips brushing hers, and his next words fall against her lips. "You being so embarrassed by me and all that."_

_Emma laughs, and their foreheads bump together. Her heart is racing, and she grabs hold of his leather jacket, like she needs it to steady herself. She feels lightheaded and giddy and _young_. Emma hadn't even felt that when she _was _young_. _Foster homes made her grow up too fast, and the sting of abandonment had been ever present in her life, just enough so that she'd built her walls early._

_She keeps a hold of his jacket, Graham smiles down at her, his fingers still threaded through her hair. "Thank you."_

"_For what?" He'd said that last night, and she never asked what he meant, or what he remembered._

"_Just…" Graham can't tell her everything, not yet. Can't really put into words how much she's actually given him. "This. This feels good and it's…it's been a long time since anything has."_

_She smiles, and he lets her think that it's just about a messy breakup, getting him out of a crappy relationship, when really it's his heart, his memories, who he _is.

"_For me, too," Emma admits, her voice soft, like she's offering him a secret._

~OUAT~

David catches up with Graham down the hall, stepping around the overturned cart and sidestepping piles of bandages and meal trays.

Graham's doubled over, his uninjured hand cradling the other, but he's still screaming, a jumbled string of yells and curse words and the drawn out, single syllable _No_. David gets in front of the other man, firmly grabbing his shoulders.

"Graham…Graham, look at me. C'mon, you're the sheriff, you don't wanna let hospital security drag you off…"

Graham fights him, thrashing away from his touch, straightening up and swiping his foot at the upended cart, sending it spinning down the hall. Nurses are backing away, calling for help.

David seizes him again, his voice suddenly forceful, "Graham, if you keep this up, they will _ban you from seeing Emma_. Okay? You gotta stop."

It's her name gets through to him, penetrating the haze of anger and grief, and something loosens in Graham's chest. He digs his teeth into his lower lip, so hard he tastes blood, physically stopping himself from screaming.

"You're right," he mumbles, voice ragged. "S…sorry, you…you're right."

David looks relieved. He claps Graham on the back, steering him away from the wreckage he caused. "Good. Let's get that hand looked at."

"But…Emma…"

"Mary Margaret and Henry are gonna go see her," David tells him. "You can take a few minutes, alright?"

Graham nods. He feels strangely disconnected after his breakdown, and he lets David lead him down the hospital hallway, away from the people staring and whispering about him.

Half an hour later, his hand has been X-rayed, and they're waiting a doctor to come put a cast on it, in spite of Graham's vehement protests.

David leans against the wall, his arms crossed. The silence is slightly awkward, but Graham finds himself surveying the man, Emma's father who's basically a stranger to her, yet who's been at the hospital for close to eight hours now. "You don't have to wait," he tells him finally, only to start conversation.

"It's okay," David shakes his head a little. "I figure I should give Mary Margaret and Henry some time before I go in…"

"To see Emma?" David nods, and Graham continues carefully, "I didn't know you two were friends."

He shifts, uncomfortable. "We aren't, really. I mean…I don't know her that well." He gives a short, humorless laugh. "But I don't really know anyone that well…"

"Thought I heard your memories had come back."

"They have. I mean, I guess. I remember who everyone is and…" He stops himself, embarrassed. "Sorry, I shouldn't be…you don't wanna hear _me_ whining right now."

"It's alright," Graham offers. "I could use a distraction."

David frowns. "Well, it's just…I remember my life before, I do, but it feels like…it's kinda like something I read in a book. I remember it all, the facts and the names and the details, but it doesn't really feel like it happened to me. If that makes sense."

"Perfect sense," Graham mutters, more to himself than David.

"So now it's like anything I feel…I don't even know where most of it comes from. And when you carried Emma out, when I saw she was hurt…I dunno." He shudders visibly. "It just…it scared me. A lot."

Graham looks away, and David eyes him. His good hand is holding the wrist of his broken one, fingers dangling useless and limp. "So…you and Emma?"

Graham swallows hard. "Yeah. Me and Emma."

They're quiet for awhile, then David ventures, "She's going to wake up, Graham. I mean, I know what Dr. Whale said, but…no one thought I was ever coming out of a coma, and they were wrong."

Graham laughs once, humorlessly. David's miracle awakening isn't going to be much use to Emma. She isn't frozen in time. "It's just…it's my fault."

"What do you mean?"

"I did this." Graham's voice catches. "I made her deputy. I let her go in that house."

David shifts uncomfortably, unsure what to say. "Look, Graham…your job's dangerous sometimes. There are risks. It's no one's fault."

Graham lifts pained eyes to look at the other man, his voice tight. "The guy was shooting at _me_. She got in front of me. So how the hell is it not my fault?"

~OUAT~

_He slips out of the office that afternoon while Emma's on a coffee run. The day's been mundane, a fender bender and a noise complaint the only instances breaking up endless paperwork._

_Still, something is happening. He and Emma have spent the day shooting glances and instantaneous smiles at each other. There are quick, casual touches when she walks by his desk, a deliberate brushing of fingers when headed back in the squad car._

_Now, though, he has something to take care of. He knows Regina schedules meetings on Thursday afternoons, so he isn't surprised to find the Mayor's house empty except for Henry when he arrives._

_The boy fills him in on everything he'd left out yesterday. The curse. How Emma escaped it, her role as the savior. The boy claims Regina doesn't know, but Graham is sure she at least suspects. The clock moving, David Nolan (Prince James, as Henry informs him) waking up, even her connection with Mary Margaret…Regina must be putting the pieces together._

_It snaps everything that happened last night in the graveyard into focus, and suddenly Graham's afraid for her. Regina had taken his heart. Most likely tried to crush it._

_What will she do to Emma, the one person who could ruin everything she's done?_

_Henry, for all his knowledge, hasn't seemed to recognize any potential danger. His eyes are shining, excitement palpable. "Are you gonna tell Emma now? Are you gonna tell her what you remember?"_

_He almost laughs, imagining Emma's reaction to such a conversation. "Not yet, Henry."_

_The boy's face falls. "Why not?"_

_Graham smiles wryly. "I don't think she'll believe me." He meets Henry's eyes, expression serious. "It's a lot to expect someone to take on faith. Especially someone like Emma. She's going to need proof." Silently, though, Graham's thinking about her safety. If Emma knows, she's more of a danger to Regina. No use putting her in that position until they're more prepared to fight._

_Henry's staring at him, disappointed. "But I've tried. I couldn't find anything. Plus I almost got me and Dr. Hopper killed."_

_Graham smiles at him, reassuringly. "This time I'll help you. How's that sound?"_

_He shrugs. "Alright."_

"_Does your book say anything about how Emma can break the curse?"_

_Henry shakes his head._

"_Well, that's probably something we should investigate, too, don't you think?"_

_Finally, Henry smiles again. "Yeah, good idea! You can be part of Operation Cobra."_

_Graham agrees, and soon he's walking out of the house and coming face to face with Regina._

_It's quick. In the brief second it takes Regina to school the expression on her face into one of mild surrise and annoyance, Graham sees the shock and anger flash across her expression, confirming his suspicions: she'd suspected he was dead. Probably been waiting for the news all day, preparing her shock and grief._

"_Surprised to see me?" His voice is low and measured, but Graham is suddenly overwhelmed by anger swelling inside him, anger for what Regina tried to do to him last night, what she's done to him and everyone else for twenty-eight years, and everything she did to him before the curse._

"_I am," she retorts cooley. "Last night you gave the impression you were through with me."_

"_Oh, I am. But you'd always made it sound like that wasn't an option for me." His eyes narrow. "What happened to your punishment…your Majesty?"_

_The title drips with venom, but Regina's eyes widen. Accusations and understanding passes between them. Graham can see her considering denial, but in the end, she doesn't bother. Memories are memories, and she won't be able to convince him he's insane._

"_Well, well. Isn't this touching?" Her voice takes on a mocking tone. "True love's kiss has broken your curse. Part of it, anyway. But not the most important part." She takes a step closer to him. "I couldn't care less that you remember, _Huntsman_. You were always useless, don't forget that. You were worth nothing in that world, and that's carried over in fine fashion. You have no power."_

_Regina pauses, watching him absorb this. Graham sets his jaw, expression impassive. _

"_But your new little girlfriend on the other hand…." Regina's lips curl and she leers at him. "She's not so useless is she?"_

_His stomach clenches. "I don't know what you're talking about."_

"_She's caused an awful lot of trouble since she got here," Regina states, tone casual. "So far her attempts at undermining me have been so laughably pathetic it's not worth stopping her." The smirk falls from her face, and she fixes him with an icy glare. "But if you start stirring things up…try to pull your deputy into some sort of erratic, psychotic fantasy about…curses and fairy tales…" She seizes a handful of his shirt, as though she's about to rip into his chest yet again. "Well, in that case she might become a slightly bigger problem. And you remember, I'm sure, how I take care of bigger problems." _

_Regina lets him go, then, shoving him back a little. She turns on her heel and heads toward the house, tossing a warning over her shoulder, "Just be careful, sheriff. I wouldn't want to catch you acting unprofessional. I'd be forced to…deal with matters."_

~OUAT~

"_Hen_ry."

Mary Margaret and Henry turn toward the doorway at the same time. Regina stands in the doorway, glaring at both of them.

"What did I tell you about coming here?"

Henry, who's sitting on the edge of Emma's bed, turns away from his mother, not even bothering to protest.

"Madame Mayor, we would have called-"

Regina cuts her eyes at Mary Margaret, speaking over her. "I won't even ask which irresponsible adult helped you sneak off. I've indulged this because you had a scare last night, with the break in, but I won't indulge it anymore." She tugs on his arm, pulling him from the bed to a standing position. "It's time for school."

Henry jerks away, stubborn. "I'm staying here, I'm waiting for Emma to wake up."

Regina bends down, tightening her grip on him, her voice hardening. "You will do as I say, young man. We'll talk about your punishment later." She glares at Mary Margaret over his head. "You should go today of all days, I'm sure you'll have the benefit of a substitute teacher."

The mayor pulls Henry from the room before Mary Margaret can say anything. He casts a glance over his shoulder, expression panicked as he's pulled out of sight of Emma.

So Mary Margaret is left alone with her roommate. She pulls her chair closer to the bed, reaching out and folding Emma's hand into her own. "C'mon, Emma," she whispers. "Please wake up." She thinks, suddenly, of David, the day he grabbed her hand and woke up hours later. She almost smiles. "Should I read you one of Henry's stories? About Snow White's daughter, maybe?"

"What about Snow White?"

Mary Margaret jumps slightly, turning to see David, hovering hesitantly in the doorway. "Oh, nothing, she murmurs dismissively. "Where's Graham?"

"Getting a cast put on. Against his will, basically."

Sighing, she shakes her head. "Poor thing, watching it happen like that."

David steps tentatively into the room. "Yeah, he thinks it's his fault…apparently the burglar was aiming at him and Emma stepped between them."

Mary Margaret's eyes close. "Of course she did…" She thinks about what happened to Graham a week ago, the way Emma could barely hold it together just telling her about it.

"I didn't even know they were together."

"It hasn't been long," Mary Margaret tells him absently. "But…she really cares about him."

"And vice versa, I'd say," David adds, staring down at Emma. When he looks up, Mary Margaret's looking at him with a pained expression, and his chest tightens with guilt. "May Margaret…"

Before he can speak, though, her eyes snap to something behind him, and David turns to see Graham, frozen in the doorway, his eyes locked on Emma.

Slowly, with what seems like great effort, Graham pulls his eyes away from her and takes in the scene in front of him. "Sorry, am I…interrupting?"

"No, no, of course not, Graham, sit down…." Mary Margaret stands up, relinquishing her chair. "We'll give you some time alone with her."

Graham thinks about protesting, but can't bring himself to; truthfully he was hoping for this, and he's grateful. "Thanks. You can run home if you want. Change, grab some food. I'm staying with her."

The schoolteacher visibly hesitates, and David puts in, "I can give you a ride back to your car, if you want."

Finally, Mary Margaret agrees. She squeezes Emma's hand and gently brushes the hair back from her forehead, telling her, "I'll be back soon, Emma." Her tear filled eyes meet Graham's. "Thanks…if anything happens…"

"I'll call you," he promises.

When she and David close the door behind them, Graham sinks into the chair, moving it as close to the bed as he can, breathing out a single syllable, "Em…" His hand that isn't encased in plaster covers hers, and he sink forward, all strength draining out of him, burying his face in her pillow, the crown of his head brushing her temple. "_Please_," he forces out. "Please come back to me…"

~OUAT~

_A/N: That's it for that chapter. Not a whole lot moving forward in the present, but lots happening in the flashbacks. Never fear, next chapter's a packed one for the present, Emma-in-the-hospital storyline. But I'm also enjoying all the Emma/Graham cuteness because, damn it, every time I watch 1x07 I just think how sweet and adorable it would have been moving them from that point if he hadn't died. _

_Thanks so much for reading this, going to try to get an update up soon…and of course, hearing what you guys think is always a good motivator (shameless plug is shameless)_


	4. Rainy Zurich

_A/N: Chapter title comes from "Rainy Zurich" by The Fray. These lyrics, guys. THESE. LYRICS. So perfect for this chapter. You should probably listen to the song. And fall in love with the song._

_She's in a town that holds a lonely road,  
>And the night is falling,<br>There's a road that follows to a home,  
>And the sky is heavy,<br>In the home she's in a lonely room,  
>With music playing,<br>Can she hear my heart coming through,  
>On the door between<em>

_I'll keep you warm,_  
><em>Dancing in a downpour,<em>  
><em>And I will hold your body slowly turning,<em>  
><em>I'll keep you warm,<em>  
><em>Dancing in a downpour,<em>  
><em>Breathe it in,<em>  
><em>We'll take it off and soak our skin<br>_

_Maybe I'll find you,_  
><em>Maybe I won't,<em>  
><em>Baby I'll try to,<em>  
><em>Even if I don't,<em>  
><em>You are what I never knew I needed<em>

Mary Margaret keeps quiet entering Emma's room. Graham's arms are folded on the edge of Emma's hospital bed, his head pillowed on top of them, and she's hoping he's getting some sleep.

But as soon as she closes the door behind her, Graham lifts his head, his eyes red rimmed and worried and fully awake. "Oh, hi."

"Hey…" Mary Margaret eyes flick to Emma, who looks the same as she did a few hours ago. She holds out a paper bag to Graham. "Brought you breakfast."

He smiles halfheartedly, taking it. "Thanks."

Mary Margaret's eyes soften with concern. "You should get some sleep, Graham, you've been up all night. I'll sit here with her, I can wake you up if anything changes."

Graham rakes a hand through his disheveled curls. "That's okay, I don't think I can sleep." For the first time, he notices the bulky overnight bag swung over Mary Margaret's shoulder. "What's that?"

"Oh, it's silly…" Mary Margaret reaches into the bag and extracts the cream colored, woven blanket from Emma's room. "It's Emma's-"

"…baby blanket," he finishes softly. "I know."

Moving around to the opposite side of the bed from Graham, Mary Margaret spreads the blanket over the drab hospital sheets. "I just thought it'd be nice for her to have when…when she wakes up."

Graham's face twists, and he spends a long time staring intently at Emma's hand. His good hand's been cradling it for hours, his fingers absently tracing her palm. "Um," his voice is trembling, and he sounds like a scared little boy when he asks, "She is going to wake up, right?"

A lump's forming in Mary Margaret's throat, and she quietly gives Graham the reassurance she needs herself. "Of course. Emma's tough."

"She is…" he agrees softly.

For awhile, they're both quiet, keeping silent vigil. Mary Margaret's gaze flicks to Graham, noting that the bag she handed him is untouched. "Graham, honey, you should try to eat something," she says gently.

Graham thinks of Emma's frequent statements about Mary Margaret's tendency to mother, and he nearly smiles. "Thanks, but I just…I don't think I can."

Mary Margaret nods, absently smoothing Emma's baby blanket. Their eyes meet, and Mary Margaret smiles sadly at Graham.

He's thinking about the first time he met her, before the curse, before Storybrooke…before he lost his heart. It's strange, how she's sitting in front of him now with no idea that he was once supposed to kill her.

If he hadn't let her go, he'd never have lost his heart. Never lost those years to Regina, trapped in the castle, at her whim.

But if he hadn't let her go, there would have been no Emma. He thinks of what Henry said, after the first time he kissed her. _You two do have a special connection. She owes you her life_.

His vision blurs, and Graham ducks his head, a few tears slipping out.

Emma may owe him her life, but now she's lying there when it should be him.

His phone buzzes against his thigh, and Graham groans, discreetly wiping his eyes as he looks down at his phone. "Mary Margaret, are you going to be here for a little while? I need to stop by the office, but…I'll be back as soon as I can, I swear-"

She cuts him off, gently. "It's okay, Graham. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thanks." Graham reluctantly lets go of Emma's hand and stands up, his limbs stiff from hours of sitting. He touches Emma's hair, then leans down and brushes his lips against her forehead. "Bye, Em."

When he straightens up, Mary Margaret is watching them sadly. Graham clears his throat, a strange flutter of panic stirring in his chest at the thought of leaving. He grabs the bag, smiling tightly at Mary Margaret. "Thanks for the food."

He makes it to the door and freezes, his lungs constricting. He braces one hand on the door frame, glancing back at Emma. Graham lingers for nearly a minute before saying, a catch in his voice, "You'll call me?"

"The second _anything_ happens," Mary Margaret promises.

"Alright. I won't be long, though." Another thirty seconds, and he finally shuts his eyes and pulls himself away.

Mary Margaret watches him go, then turns to Emma. "You've got a good one, Emma," she says quietly. "He's really scared." Her voice catches all at once, the front of reassurance she'd put up for Graham falling away. "So you have to wake up for him, alright? And for Henry. And…and for me." A tear slides out and rolls down Mary Margaret's cheek. Her fingers curl around the edge of Emma's baby blanket. "You're my best friend, Emma, and I…I need you." She lets go of the blanket with one hand, resting it instead on Emma's hand. "So just…wake up. Soon."

~OUAT~

_There's a fender bender the night of their first date._

_It's two days after their first kiss, two days after Graham died for five minutes. He'd asked her the day before, just before they left for the day._

"_Would you want to…go on a date with me?" He'd blurted out when she was halfway out the door to the office. He'd been blushing, unsure of how to go about this, unsure of what the steps should be._

_His nerves had dissolved, though, when Emma turned around, a look of relief on her face. "Yeah, I…I do actually."_

_So tonight they'd left work early, and he'd picked her up an hour later. Gone to the nicest restaurant in Storybrooke for dinner. Emma's wearing her red dress that for years has only seen bogus dates with criminals who jumped bail. When he'd picked her up, Graham had stared for a good ten seconds before saying she looked beautiful, and Emma had spent the walk to the car trying to remember the last time someone told her that and meant it._

_It's raining, but he holds an umbrella over both of them on the walk to and from the car, and it gives them an excuse to press their bodies close together as they walk, his hand resting on the small of her back._

_And it's easy. They never run out of things to talk about, and he's sweet and attentive and he tries to make her smile…which isn't proving difficult._

_But their food's been there all of thirty seconds when they get the call. _

_Graham grimaces, meeting her eyes apologetically. "Car accident, apparently it's threatening to turn into an assault situation. We've got to go. I'm sorry, Em."_

"_Hey, it's not your fault." She arches an eyebrow, smiling wryly. "Duty calls, right?"_

_He gives her his suit jacket in the car, and the two of them show up overdressed at the scene of the accident. In spite of Graham's umbrella, they're both soaked by the time the drivers are calmed down and the accident report is filled out. When one cars driven away, the other one towed, Graham leans against the squad car, tilting his head back, his eyes closed._

"_You okay?" Emma approaches him, shivering, pulling his jacket tighter around her._

_Graham laughs once, dryly. "Nope. No I'm not." He groans. "I wanted this to be perfect, and we ended up out here, in this mess."_

"_Well," she steps closer to him, tone teasing. "That's what you get for trying to seduce your deputy." _

_He smiles a little. "Listen, we never got to eat. My place isn't far, we could change…I don't know, make some grilled cheeses or something…"_

_Her hands slip around his waist, and Emma smirks mischievously up at him. "Getting me back to your place, huh? Very smooth."_

_Graham backtracks immediately. "No, sorry, I didn't mean anything suggestive just-"_

_She leans forward and encases his lips in hers, quieting his fumbling apologies. Graham's back presses against the squad car, and the umbrella tumbles out of his hand so he can reach up and cup her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone._

_Their tongues tangle together, and Emma's hand wraps around the nape of Graham's neck, pulling him toward her. She tastes like rain and wine, and the kissing seems to go on forever, long enough for him to become used to the way she feels against him, the way his every nerve is alive and buzzing. There are no memories rushing back now, nothing left to distract him. Just Emma and the way his heart feels full to bursting in his chest._

_When she pulls back, she's gasping for air, eyes swirling with happiness and desire and the slightest hint of fear. Emma's whole body is shaking, and it's not from the cold. She feels like an open wound, vulnerable and defenseless. There's something about Graham that steals her ability to protect herself, yet some dim part of her mind still knows this is dangerous, that the further she lets herself fall, the more it's going to hurt when she loses him._

_But he's smiling sweetly down at her, and his touch is gentle as he brushes away a rain soaked strand of hair that's sticking to her cheek. She could get addicted to this, to the way he looks at her, and the way he makes her feel._

"_You okay?" His voice is soft, and she can barely hear it over the rain._

"_Yeah." She lifts her eyes to look at him, smiling almost shyly. "Just…" she laughs a little. "I did _not_ see this coming."_

_His eyes crinkle as he smiles playfully down at her. "See, that's the wrong line. You're supposed to say you've been waiting for this since the first moment you saw me." _

_Then she's leaning against him, laughing, and it's simple and safe again._

"…_cause I have," he adds after a moment, and Emma's laugh fades. Their eyes meet, and she's lost again, in the sincerity and intensity of his gaze._

_His fingers find hers in the dark and intertwine. _

_Then the world lights up, just for a second, a flash of lightning immediately followed by the rumble of thunder. It takes her a moment to untangle the words from her throat, but Emma finally says, "You said something about grilled cheeses?"_

~OUAT~

He stays away for awhile, grabs several hours of fitful sleep, cooks something to eat, does some laundry. But it's no use, and by lunchtime, David's on his way back to the hospital, his need to check on Mary Margaret dovetailing with his strangely consuming need to know how Emma is.

He's expecting to find Graham, and maybe even Henry, but Mary Margaret's alone in the hospital room when he gets there. "Hi," he says awkwardly.

She turns, frowning slightly. It's disheartening, the way she doesn't look particularly happy to see him, but he steps tentatively inside anyway. "Any news?"

"Nope." Mary Margaret's voice is pained, exhausted.

David sits down in the chair across the bed from her. "You had any lunch?"

"I ate this morning."

"If you want to go get something, I can-"

"I'm fine," Mary Margaret says firmly, meeting his eyes for the first time. "Graham had to go by the office, I promised him I'd stay here."

He starts to offer to run down to the cafeteria, pick something up for her, but something distracts him. David reaches out, worrying the wool blanket between the pads of his fingers. "This wasn't here before, was it?"

"No, I brought it from home. It's Emma's."

David's eyes find the name, woven in purple, and suddenly his throat narrows, a shudder running the length of his body.

There's the prickle of familiarity in the back of his mind, some memory that's right there that he just can't connect to…

"David?"

"Sorry." He shakes his head slightly, frustrated at the all too familiar sensation, an onslaught of emotions seemingly connected to nothing.

They sit in silence for awhile, until David, just to fill it, asks, "How's Graham?"

"How do you think?" Mary Margaret replies in a hollow voice. "He's a wreck." Just when David is sure the silence will envelope them again, she adds, "And you know what the terrible thing is? I've been so…_jealous_ of the two of them."

"Jealous?" He repeats in a small voice.

"I mean, I'm happy for them. I'm so, _so_ glad for Emma, that she has someone, that she's actually letting him get close, but...all week I've just…I've been jealous." She lifts her head, looking at David through a sheen of tears. "The way he looks at her. He's just…he's so _certain_."

Shame burns in David's gut, and he lowers his head, unable to say anything. There's nothing he can say; ever since he woke up, nothing in his life has been certain.

"I'm trying," he says quietly, eyes downcast, the words directed at his folded hands. "I…I'm trying to do the right thing, but I can't…" His voice catches, and David looks up. "I told you you're the only thing that feels real. And…you are, Mary Margaret, that's still true. I don't know what it is, but from the first time I saw you it was just…_right_."

She squeezes her eyes shut, fighting tears. "Don't…"

But the words are spilling out now, and he can't stop them. "But I want to do the right thing, and I remember now. I remember marrying Kathryn and loving her. I _remember__**, **_but I don't feel it. Not like I do with you. It's just…I made promises to her. She didn't do anything wrong, I can't just…I can't _leave_ her, just because of a brain injury, what kind of person…" His voice falters, and he meets Mary Margaret's expression, eyes pleading. "I'm trying to be a good person. I'm trying to do the right thing but I…I hate that I'm hurting you. I never wanted to do that."

"I know," Mary Margaret whispers, her voice tight. "I do know that. But just…please, David. Please don't make me do this now. If Emma's not awake in the next fifteen hours, then she's probably going to die, and that…that is _all_ I can handle right now. That's all I can take."

"I know. I'm sorry," he mumbles again, wondering fleetingly if he'll ever be able to apologize enough.

"Hi…" Graham steps uncertainly into the room. He holds out a bag from Grannys diner. "Ruby came by the station, asking about Em, she sent some food…"

Looking grateful for the interruption, Mary Margaret stands, taking the bag from Graham. "That was sweet of her…"

David leaps to his feet, too. "Here, Graham, sit down, I'll grab another chair from the waiting room."

There are moments of shuffling and movement as Mary Margaret passes out sandwiches wrapped in cellophane and David leaves the room and returns with another chair. He sets it at the foot of Emma's bed, a little further apart than the others, then accepts his own sandwich.

Graham sits in the chair David relinquished, sliding it a little closer to the bed and touching Emma's face lightly. "Hey, you," he whispers softly, his gaze lingering on her for a long moment before snapping to check his watch.

Nearly two thirty. The day is slipping away. Something has to change soon.

His stomach and throat are as tight with fear as they've been all day, but he's starting to feel lightheaded and dizzy, so he makes a concentrated effort to pick up his sandwich and eat.

His fingers are clumsy and slow as he unwraps it, but within seconds, Graham's staring down at a grilled cheese.

Memories flood him, as quickly and unstoppable as the first time he kissed her. Graham tries to dismiss them, tries not to think about the fact that their first date was only a week ago. One week, and now that might be all he gets.

He's suddenly aware that Mary Margaret and David are looking at him with concern, so Graham quickly takes a bite of his sandwich.

The taste hits him and his throat closes.

The next second he's on his feet, stumbling into the tiny bathroom in the hospital room, falling to his knees and retching.

~OUAT~

"_Sorry it's not exactly The Tavern quality," Graham says, referring to the restaurant they'd had to leave as he hands her a plate._

"_Are you kidding, grilled cheese is food of the gods." She grins at him, and as if on cue, the apartment is plunged into darkness. "Oops. Guess the gods didn't like that."_

_Graham laughs, blindly reaching his hand out and landing on her knee. "Oh, sorry." He stands up. "Just give me a second."_

_He starts a fire by flashlight, and soon the two of them are in the floor by Graham's tiny fireplace, eating their sandwiches. _

_Emma's changed into one of Graham's button downs, and though it's nearly as long as the wet dress she discarded, she's suddenly very aware of how much of her legs are bare, and she curls them consciously underneath her._

_They eat quietly for a few minutes, a comfortable easy silence broken only by the frequent crashes of thunder. _

"_Can I ask you something?" Emma ventures after awhile._

"_Of course."_

"_When you…made me deputy…you and Regina were still…whatever." She gives him an almost apologetic look for bringing it up. "You knew she hated me. You had to know she wouldn't like it."_

"_That's true…" He concedes, watching her, waiting for more. _

"_So…why did you do it?" _

_He smiles a little. "I just…I wanted to."_

_Emma laughs once. "Well, that's specific."_

_Graham lowers his eyes, the firelight flickering across his face, his expression thoughtful. When he looks up at her, Emma's breath catches in her throat, the look on his face so open and tender it's searing. "It felt like the first thing I'd wanted in…in forever. I knew you'd be good at it, that was obvious, but it was more than that." He pauses, searching for the words. "Just…I wanted you to stay. I wanted to get to see you. I wanted to be around you. I just…I _wanted_." He smiles crookedly at her, his hand covering hers on the floor between them. "It's like I already knew you were going to save me."_

_Emma flushes, and though her instinct is to look away, she can't break the power of Graham's gaze. "God, you and Henry both…"_

"_What?"_

_She shakes her head, dismissive. "Henry's got this whole savior thing, too. Never mind, it's…" She draws a shaky breath. "I'm such a mess, Graham. I've never been good for anyone, I…I'm no savior. You did that all on your own."_

_He's quiet for a moment, considering what she said. Then, he moves forward on the floor, closing the gap between them, reaching up and grazing his knuckles against her cheek. "You have no idea, do you? What you've done…" His hand cups her cheek, thumb stroking lightly. "I can't remember the last time I saw Henry smile before you got here. And Mary Margaret…everyone likes her, but she was always on her own, everywhere. Not close to anyone. And me…" His voice catches, because there's just no way. No way he can make her understand what she's done for him. "Whatever you think, you did save me, Em."_

_They reach for each other at the same time and it's the sweetest kiss yet. But they hold on as it deepens, and Emma's entire body is pulsing with _need.

_Emma tugs the T-shirt he changed into over his head, and his fingers shake as he fumbles with the buttons of his shirt she's wearing. A nervous laugh escapes her as she realizes they're making out on his living room floor like teenagers, and she's breathless as she asks, "Should we…?"_

_Graham knows what she's asking and he nods, standing up and grabbing her hand to help her do the same. He doesn't let go, and they kiss once more before moving to the bedroom, shirts discarded on the floor._

_Then they're on his bed, tangled together, their skin hot and pressed together. He pulls back once, staring at her with something like awe. "You're beautiful Em…"_

_She trails her hand down his chest and stops, distracted by the quick, pounding beat of his heart. She feels an inexplicable prickle of tears, stabbing her eyes like small, hot daggers, and out of nowhere fear swells inside her._

_It's never been this terrifying before. She's never let herself have anything to lose._

_She kisses him again so he won't see how close she is to crying, but she keeps her hand on his heart, the thump of his pulse steadying her._

_Graham rounds his lips against the base of her jaw. He's got one hand tangled in her hair, the other roaming more freely, acquainting itself with the curves of her body._

_Then Emma's hand drifts down, tugging on his pants, and he snaps back to reality, remembering who is he, what he is._

"_Em…Emma," he pants, pulling away from her slightly, his chest suddenly constricting. "Emma, wait…"_

_She pauses as he moves away, her eyes hazy and slightly unfocused. "S…sorry, is this…is this not okay?"_

_He swallows hard, fighting panic and the inescapable feeling that he's lying to her._

_Graham is not whole. He is a dirty, broken thing, and for just a second he wishes he'd never remembered. _

_He'd spent two years in that castle, a slave to Regina's whim. Used, no choice but to be compliant. He was stripped of his free will far before the other residents of Storybrooke. He was nothing but a body, an object, and he couldn't stop it no matter how wrong it felt._

_Emma's watching him now, and her eyes soften with concern. She touches his face. "What's wrong?"_

_He meets her eyes, and slowly his panic calms. He thinks of Emma's words from earlier, insisting that she's no savior, that she's a mess._

_There's some brokenness in her, some deep well of damage and pain, that he recognizes. It mirrors his own._

_He finds her hand against the sheets and links their fingers together, thinking about how much she's already fixed him, and suddenly he's not scared anymore._

"_Thank you." he tells her quietly, the words a hum against her skin, and after that, their words fall away._

~OUAT~

Mary Margaret fusses over him for a good twenty minutes, and he lets her because it's a decent distraction for both of them.

She gets him a cool washcloth. A soda. Hovers, and asks over and over if he's feeling sick again, essentially treating him like one of her fourth graders, but Graham doesn't mind. David watches her, a soft, adoring smile on his face.

Graham's feeling a little calmer when Henry shows up around four. He tosses his backpack in the corner and hops up on the foot of Emma's bed, settling himself in the tight space , before answering the question all the adults' faces, "I don't care. My mom's never home when I get home from school anyway."

"How was school?" Mary Margaret asks finally.

Henry shrugs like nothing in the world could be less important. "I dunno." He pauses, then adds, "Ms. Grey was there instead of you." He twists his finger around one the purple ribbons woven into Emma's baby blanket, then asks hopefully, "Has she woken up at all yet?"

"Not yet," Mary Margaret says, the word _yet_ empty of all hope. Graham curls into himself a little more. Henry's eyes dart from adult face to adult face, trying to read more.

But his superpower isn't to read minds, so Henry just sighs and settles himself for waiting. No one talks much, and it gives Henry time to think about the complicated connections in the hospital room.

Mary Margaret and David, who are here for their daughter without knowing it. They don't even remember they're married, and in fact think David's married to someone else. Then there's Graham, who was once supposed to kill Mary Margaret (well, Snow White). He remembers now, at least. Without Graham, Emma wouldn't exist, and Henry wouldn't either.

He smiles a little. Three people in the room owe Graham their lives, and two of them don't even know it. Henry's glad Graham's with Emma; the sheriff's a savior, too, in his own way.

He thinks back to the book, the pages that Emma burned. Rumplestiltskin had told Snow White and Prince Charming that their daughter _would_ return on her twenty-eighth birthday, which she had, and that the final battle would begin, which it hadn't. Not yet.

He'd told the future. No question. And there didn't seem to be any battles yet, not that Henry counted, anyway. Which meant Emma wasn't going to die.

For the next few hours, the room's occupants remain consistent. Emma's son, her parents, her boyfriend. They sit mostly in silence, watching and waiting and hoping.

David begs off around six thirty, and everyone pretends they haven't noticed all the calls he's missing. He returns an hour and a half later with food for everyone. Graham doesn't eat, and this time no one tries to make him.

Regina comes for Henry at nine. She merely appears in the doorway and arches an eyebrow, and he sighs but follows her out without protest. Regina's distasteful gaze sweeps the others and lands on Graham, and just for a second, she allows herself a triumphant sneer.

An hour later, Dr. Whale comes in. Everyone tenses, and Graham's throat fills with protests – _No you said twenty four hours it hasn't been twenty four hours she still has time she has all night it isn't over it isn't_ – but the doctor is only informing them that visiting hours are over, and only one of them can stay the night.

Mary Margaret and Graham's eyes meet, and he stammers out quickly, "I'm fine staying. You should sleep."

She smiles tiredly at him. "You sure?" He nods, as she knew he would. "Do you need me to bring you anything?"

"I'm okay, thanks."

Mary Margaret squeezes his shoulder as she walks out. "I'll be back in the morning, alright? Call me if she…if anything happens."

"I will."

David hovers in the door, waiting for her, and Graham watches the two of them leave, the way their eyes keep snapping back to get another look at Emma.

When the door closes behind them, Graham leans forward, his arms resting on Emma's bed, chin propped on his cast. "I know you think your parents abandoned you, Em," he says quietly, tugging the baby blanket a little higher up on the bed. He thinks about the first time she showed it to him, three or four days ago, the look on her face almost shy as she let him hold the most precious thing she owned.

_I could never figure it out_, she'd admitted, her expression pained. _Why they went to the trouble to name me…probably even had this thing _made_, I mean look at it. Why do all that if they were just going to toss me away?_

Now, he tells her earnestly what he couldn't tell her when she was awake. "But they were only trying to protect you. And they're here now, Em, and they're so worried…David, he doesn't even know why, but he keeps coming back…"

For the next few hours, he talks himself hoarse, telling her about Snow White and Prince Charming and the fairytale that led to her. He tells her everything he couldn't say before, about what Regina took from him and how Emma gave it back. When he runs out of fairy tales, he tells her stories she already knows, stories that he starts _Once upon a time, the sheriff and his deputy…._, and every time he wishes she would cut him off to protest the possessive pronoun.

~OUAT~

_After, Emma lies with her head on his chest, which is rising and falling heavily. He massages his fingers gently through her hair, and both of them are shaking._

_It's never been like that, for either of them. Emma, she's never let herself care so much. And Graham has never been given the choice._

"_This is good, isn't it?" It's only the two of them in the apartment, but he still whispers, voice almost reverent. "Me and you, it's…it's a good thing."_

"_Yeah, it is…" She breathes out, surprised by how strongly she agrees. "But, Graham…" She props herself up to look at him, eyes clouded with uncertainty. "I'm not so good at this."_

_He laughs, then grins wolfishly at her. "I beg to differ."_

_Emma rolls her eyes. "No, I mean…I'm not good at…the whole…at being a girlfriend."_

_He looks at her, straight faced. "Neither am I."_

_Her forehead rests on his chest as she laughs, and Graham buries his smile in her hair, thinking that maybe he can do this, maybe he can be enough for her if he just spends his time trying to get Emma to smile and laugh, doing anything he can to make her happy.  
><em>

~OUAT~

They walk together to the visitor's parking lot, close but not talking. When she reaches her car, David hesitates just long enough for Mary Margaret to blurt out, "Do you want to come over for a bit?"

He nods immediately, and relief flows through her. It's not even about him, really, or all the reasons they shouldn't be doing this. It's the fact that the thought of going home to face her empty apartment makes her feel perilously close to falling apart.

It's not that late, but she feels bone tired, an exhaustion that went deep down into her soul. Still, her thoughts are far too occupied to allow sleep. By morning, it will be twenty four hours, and Mary Margaret isn't ready to face what that will mean.

David looks awkward sitting at the breakfast nook, too formal and self-conscious. But his gaze is warm and concerned as he watches her pace the apartment, uselessly cleaning, and making cocoa. He seems to know that she just needs to fill the silence, commenting, "How'd Emma end up living with you, anyway?"

The question finally slows her down, and Mary Margaret leans on the counter across from him, sliding a mug of hot chocolate with cinnamon as she does so. "I offered her the spare room when she first decided to stay in town…I found her one night, living in her car and pouring over nonexistent apartment listings."

"Oh, God, really?" David screws up his face. For some reason, the idea of Emma sleeping in a car is bothersome.

"Yeah…Regina made Granny kick her out of the B&B, so she was living in that tiny Bug." she tells him. Mary Margaret pauses, then smiles a little. "Of course, she _still_ said no to me at first. Said she wasn't the roommate type."

He smiles, too. "Is she?"

Mary Margaret grins. "Well, she's messy. Not remotely a morning person. And she gets home late a lot, and she isn't at all quiet about it. She doesn't cook or clean anything, and if she's mad she likes to destroy the appliances."

David laughs. "So, no. Not the roommate type."

"But, she always…she's always there if, if I need…" Mary Margaret's voice cracks. Her smile is frozen on her face, and she's thinking how three nights ago Emma cancelled plans with Graham, without Mary Margaret saying anything, just because Emma could tell she was feeling depressed about David. Emma hadn't made her talk about it, hadn't done anything but plop down on the couch beside her and declare they were ordering pizza and watching bad movies all night.

Just like that, Mary Margaret's face crumples, her smile falling away as she starts to sob.

David's on his feet in a second, leading her gently over the couch and pulling her against him.

She cries against his chest, whimpering, "She's gonna die, David….I think she's really going to die…"

"We don't know that," he murmurs. There's an ache in his chest, and he tightens his arms around her. Her hands fist his shirt, like she wants to make sure that he isn't going anywhere, too, and at the moment David wouldn't dare be anywhere else.

The words do nothing to quiet her sobbing, so David swallows any useless platitudes and just holds on.

Without thinking, he brushes his lips against her hairline, and Mary Margaret draws back to look at him, tears still falling. He can't help it; he brushes the tears away with his thumb, hating how powerless he feels, startled by how painful it is to see her hurting like this.

For a long moment, they stare at each other, then Mary Margaret slowly moves away. "I should…I should go to bed. I want to be back at the hospital early."

"Yeah, alright." David pauses, tentatively adding, "I could stay, if you want." At her startled look, he hastily clarifies, "On the couch, just…if you didn't want to be alone."

"What about…." His wife's name sticks in her throat, but he sees the grimace in her eyes and understands.

"She thinks I'm still at the hospital," he admits. "And…I want to go back in the morning, too."

Mary Margaret eyes him curiously, still not understanding why he's putting in so much time at the hospital, why he's behaving like a close friend when he's only spoken to Emma a few times.

The truth is, though, she doesn't want to be alone. Doesn't want to lie in her bed and know the apartment is silent and empty, just the way it was for so many years before Emma arrived and changed things.

So she gets him a blanket and a pillow, and he hugs her for too long before she goes to bed.

Mary Margaret pauses in Emma's doorway, and on a whim goes into her roommate's bedroom and curls up on Emma's bed, unmade as usual, and just the sight of it starts her crying again.

She hides her face in a pillow the smells like her roommate, and she bites down on her lower lip to keep silent, not wanting David to hear.

~OUAT~

_A/N: Woo. Thanks for reading, again! I said last chapter that this chapter was a big one for the present day hospital times, but the scene I was referring to ended up getting moved to next chapter, as this one was getting pretty long. Still, it's got some of my favorite scenes in it, so I hope you guys enjoyed._

_To the reviewer who wanted me to focus on the present day stuff instead of the beginning of Graham and Emma's relationship…well, that didn't happen this chapter obviously. But most of the bulky flashbacks are done now. Next chapter will have a few short ones, but after that, we'll be firmly in the present._

_Please review! I love hearing what you think! Update coming very soon._


	5. How to Save a Life

Chapter Five

_Step one you say we need to talk  
>He walks you say sit down it's just a talk<br>He smiles politely back at you  
>You stare politely right on through<br>Some sort of window to your right  
>As he goes left and you stay right<br>Between the lines of fear and blame  
>And you begin to wonder why you came<em>

_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend_  
><em>Somewhere along in the bitterness<em>  
><em>And I would have stayed up with you all night<em>  
><em>Had I known how to save a life<em>

Graham doesn't sleep for more than twenty minutes at once. Every time, he snaps awake in a panic, fumbling for his watch, terrified that he's let too much time slip away.

By four thirty a.m., he gives up. By six thirty, Emma will have been out of surgery for twenty-four hours.

It's not that Graham thinks Dr. Whale is going to sweep in the second twenty-four hours is up, but the closer the deadline comes, the more terrified he gets.

He leans forward, wrapping an arm around Emma's stomach and clinging to her. He presses his forehead against Emma's shoulder, breathing in, trying to find her smell underneath the sterile scent of hospital.

"Please, Em." His words are soaked in unshed tears that won't leave his throat, and muffled against her collarbone. "Please wake up. Please. _Please_." The word becomes his mantra, murmured over and over against Emma's skin.

~OUAT~

Mary Margaret wakes up in Emma's bed, momentarily disoriented.

She's fully awake in seconds, though, her eyes snapping to the clock on Emma's bedside table.

Her chest tightens, and she fumbles for her cell phone.

No missed calls.

She dresses quickly, her stomach in knots. Only when she leaves the bedroom does she remember David.

He's sitting up on the couch, his clothing rumpled. "Morning."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" She blurts it out, her voice too loud, too shaky. David's face immediately softens in concern.

"I…I haven't been awake that long, I thought you should sleep…it's not even seven yet."

"Exactly, it's almost seven and Graham hasn't…" She stops, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes for a long moment before stating tightly, "He hasn't called yet."

David stands. His face is pale, but he keeps his tone determinedly neutral. "C'mon. We don't know anything til we get there." They start toward the door, and David fumbles with something to say. "Maybe he just didn't want to wake you."

"No, he…he said he'd call, if she was awake, he would've…he would've called." She stops in the doorway, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Damn it…Emma…"

David's instinct is to comfort her, but he's having trouble focusing, waves of dizziness suddenly sweeping over him, the room hazy and tilted.

He moves past Mary Margaret, into the hallway, leaning against the wall and bending over, hands braced on his knees, eyes closed. His head's pounding, the center of it all a sharp, angry jab of pain over his eyes.

David slides down the wall, his eyes still screwed shut, and he lifts his fists to either side of his temple, pressing hard.

Something's trying to connect, some memory trying to slip through. It was Mary Margaret's voice, saying Emma's name that did it, and that's what's repeating in his head, amid distant yells and the clanking of metal and the sound of a baby crying.

"David? _David_?" Mary Margaret's crouched on the floor in front of him, but it's like he's drowning and she's above the surface, dim and distant.

"We have to save her," he mutters through gritted teeth. "I have to save Emma, I have to get her out, they're coming…"

"Who's coming, what are you talking about?" Mary Margaret asks, confused, but he doesn't seem to hear her. His eyes are closed, and he doesn't seem at all aware of his surroundings.

"There's too many…too many of them I can't…I can't let go of her, I have to…"

"_David_." Her voice is forceful now, and she grabs his shoulders, shaking him. "David, look at me."

It's slow. His body relaxes, stops thrashing. He slowly opens his eyes; they're wet and terrified, and his chest is heaving.

He looks utterly confused to find himself sitting on the floor. "What…what happened?"

Mary Margaret stares at him, bewildered. "I don't know, you tell me."

"My head…" His voice trails off. "S...sorry I think I got dizzy, did I...did I pass out?"

"No, you…you didn't."

David rakes his hands through his hair, then slowly pulls himself up. "Sorry, we should…we should go to the hospital. See about Emma."

Mary Margaret watches him warily, expression pale and uncertain. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, fine…" He shakes himself slightly, his legs weak beneath him as he starts out of the apartment. "Let's go."

~OUAT~

They walk through Emma's door and immediately the last shred of hope falls away.

Graham's leaning as far onto the bed as he can get without lying on it, his forehead nearly touching Emma's temple, and he's looking at her as though the intensity and desperation of his stare is enough to wake her. He doesn't even react when they walk in.

Mary Margaret purses her lips, and David's fingers hook around hers. Tremulously, she asks, "Has anyone…?"

"Not yet," Graham whispers, still not moving his eyes from Emma's face. His voice sounds haunted, and even from across the room Mary Margaret can see him shaking.

They pull up chairs to the usual spots, all silence and raw, immediate terror.

No one says a word for over half an hour, until Henry comes in, his backpack slung over his shoulder. "I took the bus to school and came here instead," he says by way of greeting, looking pleased with himself as he perches himself on the foot of Emma's bed as usual. "Hey, Emma." He glances around, surveying the others. "She still hasn't woken up?"

David's the only one who manages to answer. "No. She hasn't."

Henry frowns, glancing down at Emma, his expression troubled. "Are the doctors trying to figure out why? If her surgery went okay?"

Again, it takes them awhile. Finally, Mary Margaret says quietly, "We'll have to wait until Dr. Whale comes by…on his morning rounds."

Henry's lungs feel small. He squeezes Emma's blanket in his fists, falling silent.

Another silent hour passes, and then the door opens and everything freezes.

"Oh, good morning." Dr. Whale surveys the room, his eyes lingering on Henry. "Sheriff. Mary Margaret…maybe we should talk in the hallway?"

Mary Margaret nods mutely, her eyes moving instinctively to David's.

Graham's whole body feels like lead. He doesn't move, even in all the time it takes Mary Margaret to stand up and step toward the door after Dr. Whale. She glances back over her shoulder. "Graham?"

Her eyes are pleading, voice clear. _Don't make me hear this alone_.

Graham closes his eyes for a moment. He tips his forehead against Emma's temple, steadying himself, then with what feels like supreme physical effort, he stands up and follows them out.

When the door closes behind them, Henry looks at David, questioningly.

"Dr. Whale will tell them what's going on," he says uncomfortably, trying to smile at the boy. He's out of his depth here. Part of him knows he's out of place in this hospital room, but somehow leaving seems impossible.

"Yeah…" Henry's gaze is uncomfortably shrewd. After a moment he asks, "Mr. Nolan, can I ask you something?"

"David's fine, Henry," he says with a smile. "And yes, you can."

"Are you just here with Miss Blanchard? Or…are you hear because of Emma?"

David's thrown by the question, and for a moment he's quiet, returning Henry's stare. "Um…well. Both I guess. I mean, Mary Margaret's a…a good friend, and I don't really know Emma that well, but…you know, I was at your house when she got hurt and I was…I was worried."

Henry smiles a little, like he's sharing in a private joke. He lifts the corner of Emma's blanket. "Have you ever seen this before?"

"Um, no, I haven't."

"So it doesn't seem at _all_ familiar?"

"Um…" David pauses, uncertain. They're strange questions, and he remembers the first time he saw the blanket, the way it made him feel like he had lost another memory.

There's a thump from out in the hallway, and Henry turns, distracted, trying to glimpse something through the tiny rectangular window on the door.

~OUAT~

"When Miss Swan was brought into the hospital," Dr. Whale begins. "She was in and out of consciousness. When she was awake, we asked her to complete an advanced directive. In this case, it was merely verbal…a statement explaining who has the rights of health care proxy."

Neither of them speak. Graham's arms are folded, his body tense, entire stance defensive. He's trying hard to pull himself into the reality of the moment, but he's stuck on a random, singular image of Emma; her leaning against the bars of the jail cell, smirking at him, insisting that she wasn't drunk, just nearly ran down a wolf.

"She named both of you, so from this point on, you two will be able to make any decisions regarding Miss Swan together."

There's a long silence. The doctor seems to be waiting for some sort of acknowledgement, and Mary Margaret finally pulls a word from her throat, "Alright."

"I'll be honest with you. There's been no change in brain activity, and we can assume from the tests that there's no awareness. Any cerebral cortex activity we're seeing isn't accessible, because she can't regain consciousness. A ventilator is breathing for her, and, given how long her brain was without oxygen, it's very likely that this coma will become a permanent vegetative state."

His voice is so flat, so distant. It's like he's not talking about Emma, but some stranger Graham will never know.

Mary Margaret stammers, "But…David…Mr. Nolan, he…he was in a coma for years. And he woke up and was fine, it's…it's only been a day. He was in a coma for years." She repeats that point, like her simple logic can save Emma.

"Yes, but Mr. Nolan had a head injury. Very different situation."

Mary Margaret presses her fingers to the corners of her eyes, closing them. "So…what…what are you saying? What's the next step?"

"Well, that's up to the two of you, really." Dr. Whale surveys them. "You have to make a decision regarding withdrawal of treatment, or alternatively, looking into more long care facilities-"

"Long term, how…what would that do?"

"There are rehab centers and nursing homes that care for people in vegetative state-"

"You're saying she's not going to wake up?" Graham cuts him off finally, the words a supreme effort. He feels like there are shards of glass in his throat, and every breath cuts him fresh.

"It's very, very unlikely, yes."

There's a thump, and Graham jumps. Mary Margaret had slapped her palm flat against the wall, and now she's leaning over, head tipped down, tears falling straight to the floor.

Dr. Whale makes his sympathetic face, and it's so obviously orchestrated that Graham has to look away. "There's no rush to decide, of course. I'm very sorry."

He's gone then, and for a long time the two of them are still and silent, locked in their own grief.

"We should go back in." Mary Margaret says finally, her voice ragged. "They're…they're waiting."

Graham doesn't move.

"Graham, we…" Her voice breaks. "We don't have to decide right now-"

He takes a step past her, not wanting to hear it, not able to let his mind go there. Mary Margaret falls silent and she follows Graham back into the room.

Henry perks up, trepidation battling for hope on his expression. "What'd Dr. Whale say?"

Graham's eyes are on Emma. His face contorts, a dry sob lifting from his throat. Abruptly he turns, vision blurring. "I, I can't, no…I can't…"

David's gaze snap to Mary Margaret's, and in the moment Henry's staring, bewildered, after the sheriff, she shakes her head, barely perceptible , and David's head drops.

"What did the doctor say?" Henry asks.

"He said there's no change," Mary Margaret says in a hollow voice. Her whole body feels weak and unsteady, and all she wants is to collapse against David and fall apart.

But Henry's staring at her uncertainly, and she isn't sure how to go about this. If she even has the right to him that Emma's dying. If it's better to wait until they have a decision. Until they're certain.

David pulls his chair around the bed, just beside Mary Marget's, and he slips his hand into hers. Her fingers tighten around his, her nails digging into his knuckles.

When Regina enters, the timing is too perfect. "Henry."

He looked back at her, eyes widening. "I'm not going," he insists immediately.

She ignores the statement. "Convenient ,that you're at a hospital, Henry, as the school called and informed me that you're apparently sick." Her eyes flick to Mary Margaret. "Miss Blanchard, good to see you endorse skipping school. I'll remember to mention it to the principal."

Mary Margaret doesn't even look at her, barely even registers the words. Too much effort is going into not crying. David squeezes her hand, and Regina's gaze lands on him.

"Mr. Nolan. Your _wife's_ looking for you."

He looks away, but doesn't let go of Mary Margaret's hand.

Regina moves into the room, pulling Henry off Emma's bed and onto his feet. "I'm taking you to school. Now."

"_No_." A whine slips into his voice as jerks away, but the syllable is laced with panic.

Regina grips his arms, bending down so her face is level with his. "Do _not_ argue with me, young man. I'll also be speaking to hospital security about making sure you aren't allowed back in the building."

"What?" His lip is trembling, and his eyes dash around the room, hoping for a reprieve, an argument from one of the other adults. When nothing happens, he backs away from Regina, fisting Emma's baby blanket behind his back. "But…I just…I want to stay until she wakes up. _Please_."

Regina sighs, her expression melding into one of pity. She cuts her eyes at David and Mary Margaret. "Of course they wouldn't be telling you the truth…"

Henry's face tightens. "What do you mean?"

"Henry. I ran into Dr. Whale and he updated me on Miss Swan's condition…"

"He's not authorized to do that," David blurts out, his eyes hardening.

Regina doesn't glance at him, answering dismissively, "I'm the mayor, Deputy Swan is a city employee, I have the right to know." Returning her attention to Henry, she speaks in a decisive voice. "Henry. Miss Swan heart stopped when she was in surgery. It took them several minutes to get it started again. Do you know what that means?" Henry doesn't react, so she continues, "It means her brain was without oxygen for a long time. The doctors say she _isn't going to wake up_."

Henry stares at her, his expression not changing.

Regina squeezes his shoulder, tone oozing with false sympathy as she starts, "I'm sor-"

Before she can get the word out, Henry's twisted away from her and sprinted out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Regina straightens, not making any move to follow her son, and she stares down at Emma, lips curling into a satisfied sneer.

"_Get out_."

Mary Margaret's voice, quiet and intense, slices through the silence.

Regina slowly turns her head, eyes meeting Mary Margaret's, and for a moment she's startled by the defiance there. "Excuse me?"

"Get out of her room." Each syllable vibrates with anger. David murmurs her name, but Mary Margaret is almost unaware of his presence. She disentangles their fingers and steps, eyes narrowing at Regina. "You have no right to be here. _Leave_."

Regina looks strangely amused. "Well, well." She smirks. "Look who grew a backbone."

"I mean it," Mary Margaret states, setting her jaw. "Get out."

David stands then, stepping past them and very deliberately opening the door. "You heard her," he says in a low voice.

Regina starts toward the door. "Of course. I have to locate my son." She pauses, glancing back at them. "Enjoy the rest of your time together."

The door clicks shut after her, and the fight drains out of Mary Margaret, her whole body weakening as she sinks into a chair.

David's beside her in a second, pulling his chair close and resting a hand on her back. "You okay?"

The question and its soft, tender tone is her undoing. She's sobbing before she can even get out the "No."

David's arm starts around her, but Mary Margaret bends over, burying her face in Emma's baby blanket. The second the scent hits her, her chest tightens and her sobs redouble.

David leans over her, hands on her shoulders, dropping his forehead against her back, his own throat tightening.

Together, they mourn.

~OUAT~

Graham sits huddled in a stairwell, his elbows on his knees, forehead leaning on his palms.

He never needed people. Not even before the curse, before he lost his heart. The woods, the wolves…that had always been enough for him.

Emma. She'd changed it. He needs her, and now he's losing her. And this, finally, is the real curse.

Graham's breaths come in shallow, halting gasps, tears sliding onto his fingers. He's given up trying to fight them.

Her words come back to him. _Feeling nothing's an attractive option when what you feel sucks._

He sure as hell feels now. He feels small and helpless and scared. But it's physicality of grief is startling. His whole body is throbbing with pain, chest aching.

Graham doesn't know how long he's been sitting there, how long it's been since Dr. Whale confirmed their biggest fear. After awhile, though, he hears the echo of a door slamming a few floors above, followed by the pounding of footsteps, and soon Henry pulls up short above him, face splitting into a relieved expression.

"Graham! Graham, you gotta come back upstairs!"

Graham scrubs a hand across his face, blinking uncertainly at the boy. "Wha…what's happening?"

"The Evil Queen said Emma isn't gonna wake up."

Graham's face constricts, and he nods. "Yeah, I…I'm sorry, Henry."

He shakes his head, impatient. "You have to come and kiss her. That'll wake her up, you just gotta come do it."

"Henry…"

"Come _on_, hurry…" Henry tugs on Graham's arm, and he slowly lets the boy pull him to his feet, but he makes no move to follow.

"Henry. It doesn't work like that."

"Yeah, it does," Henry insists, impatient. "Snow White's her _mother_, and it worked for her."

"Henry-"

"Do you _love_ her?" Henry demands hotly, his eyes flashing as he stares up at the sheriff.

Graham's voice catches. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I love her." He's thinking that he never said that to Emma, that he'll never get the chance.

"Well, then just kiss her! True love's kiss breaks any curse, you _know_ it does!"

"Henry…" Graham's eyes closed, voice pained. "Henry, what's wrong with Emma…it's not a curse. There was a bullet and…and a surgery. It's different."

"She _will_ wake up!" Henry's yelling now, his voice echoing in the stairwell. "Snow White did, and Emma will, too."

"I don't think magic works in Storybrooke, Henry," Graham whispers in a hollow voice. He's thinking about his heart, crushing in Regina's hand, yet somehow he'd lived. His chest aches. "Trust me, I know."

He shakes his head angrily. "No, but…Emma's the savior, she's different."

"I don't think it's going to work like that, buddy."

Henry clenches his jaw, glaring up at Graham with the heated, righteous anger of a ten year old. "So you…you're not even gonna _try?" _

Graham looks down at Henry, blinking back tears, his expression hopeless and apologetic. "I'm sorry."

Then Henry shoves him, his fists ineffectually connecting with Graham's stomach. "No, you have to _try_ it, you _have_ to."

"Henry…" Startled, Graham makes a grab at the boy's flailing wrists, and Henry thrashes away from him, still hitting.

"She's not gonna die, you're wrong, I _hate_ you…"

"Henry-"

"I _hate_ you…I…I hate…" Henry's words all lost in hard, angry sobs, and his body goes limp as Graham wraps a strong, steadying arm around him.

"I'm sorry, buddy…" Graham murmurs thickly. "I'm so sorry…"

Henry cries against Graham's jacket, his whole body shuddering. Graham's crying, too, and it's a long time before Henry pulls away, swiping his sleeve messily across his face.

"C'mon…" Graham puts a hand on his shoulder. "We should…we should go back to Emma." He pauses, throat working as he works himself up to the words. "We need to…we need to tell her goodbye."

~(OUAT)~

_A/N: Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought of this one! Update coming soon._


	6. Holding On and Letting Go

_Hey guys! Thanks so, so much to everyone who's reviewing so far! I get giddy every time I get one, so glad everyone's enjoying this._

Holding On and Letting Go

_Is anybody out there?  
>Is anybody listening?<br>Does anybody really know?  
>If it's the end of our beginning,<br>A cry  
>A rush<br>From one breath  
>Is all we're waiting for<br>Sometimes the one we're taking  
>Changes every one before<em>

_It's everything you wanted, it's everything you don't_  
><em>It's one door swinging open and one door swinging closed<em>  
><em>Some prayers find an answer<em>  
><em>Some prayers never know<em>  
><em>We're holding on and letting go<em>

Graham's hand is steady on Henry's shoulder when they return to Emma's hospital room. Mary Margaret's still bent over the hospital bed, her face buried in Emma's blanket, with David leaning over her, head bowed against her back.

They slowly sit up when Graham closes the door behind him.

David glances at Henry, grimacing. "Henry, your….Regina's looking for you."

The boy doesn't even seem to hear. His eyes are locked on Emma, his face crumpled, arms wrapped around his middle.

Graham nudges him forward gently, leaning down to whisper, "Go ahead."

Henry slowly starts forward. Mary Margaret and David stand up, but they don't go further than the doorway, standing beside Graham as they watch Henry climb onto the bed.

"Emma?" He can't help but say her name this way, like he's simply trying to get her attention, like he still expects an answer.

Words lock in his throat. He doesn't know what to say. All he wants is to beg her to wake up, not to die. He's full of reasons why she can't: because the prophecy said she would start the final battle, because things were getting better, because Storybrooke needs her, because _he_ needs her.

But these arguments are useless; there's no one to tell them to. He grabs one of Emma's hands in his lap, locking and unlocking his fingers between hers for a full minute before he manages to look up again, studying her face, how it looks like she's just sleeping.

"Emma?" He pauses. "Emma, _please_." He's begging now. It's childish, and illogical, and he doesn't want to be a baby, but Henry can't help it. "Please Emma, just…just wake up. We…we don't have to do Operation Cobra stuff if you don't want to, not if it's dangerous, okay? We can just…we can just hang out at the castle and...and drink cocoa…_please_, Emma…" His face twists, and he thinks about her real code name for Operation Cobra, the one he never got to use. He leans close to her, voice desperate. "Please…Mom."

A sob tears itself from Mary Margaret's throat at the wordand she turns abruptly, slipping out of the room before she breaks down. David follows her automatically, but Graham stays, leaning against the wall, watching Henry curl up on the bed, burying his face in Emma's stomach, clinging for dear life.

After awhile, Henry lifts his head, crying hard. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, Mom, I swear, I promise, I'm so sorry." The words are choking him, his whole body shuddering with sobs, and suddenly Graham's there, wrapping an arm around Henry from behind, the only thing holding him up.

"It isn't your fault," Graham murmurs, a catch in his voice. "Henry, you don't have to apologize, it wasn't you…you didn't do anything wrong…"

"I don't want her to die," he whimpers.

"Neither do I," Graham replies, his voice splintering in the middle.

Slowly, Henry's breathing evens out, and Graham slowly relaxes his grip on the boy. Henry curls up on the edge of the bed, his face against Emma's shoulder, and Graham falls back in his chair, dropping his head into his hands.

For a long time, they sit in silence, until the door cracks open and David sticks his head in, face apologetic. "Graham...the mayor's out here, she…" His eyes flick to Henry, and his whole expression softens. "She's insisting."

Graham nods once, and David backs out.

Clearing his throat, Graham says gently, "Buddy, your, uh…the Queen's here for you."

Sniffling, Henry straightens up, his face panic stricken. "But…but she isn't going to let me come back. She told the hospital not to let me in."

"I know," Graham tells him quietly.

Henry glances back at Emma, lower lip trembling. "Graham?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you…think she'd have minded? If I…had started calling her _Mom_, sometime?"

The muscles in Graham's face tighten, his throat narrowing. "I…think she'd have loved that."

Henry nods, finally standing up from the bed, one hand still locked around Emma's. He rests his forehead against hers, his voice barely audible. "Bye, Mom. I love you."

He stays like that for a few minutes, until there's a loud, insistent knock on the door.

"C'mon…" Graham puts a hand on Henry's back.

Henry starts crying again the second they're outside the room. Regina's face tightens at the sight, something like jealousy flashing through her eyes as she down at from her son. "Henry, let's go."

"Hey…" Graham turns Henry toward him. "You did good, buddy. I…I'm so sorry." He squeezes Henry's shoulder and the boy's arms go around his waist, hugging him hard. Graham lets him hang on, lets him keep his face hidden in the shirt until the tears have stopped.

"_Henry_," Regina's voice is sharp, but Henry ignores her for another thirty seconds before pulling back, his eyes suddenly empty, expression dazed as he follows the mayor.

Graham watches them go, exhaling a shaky breath.

He glances around, only now noticing that Mary Margaret and David have moved back into Emma's room. Graham takes a few seconds, waiting for his breathing to even out, then follows them inside.

"Hi…" The sound of his own voice has become unrecognizable; he sounds ragged and aged. Broken.

Mary Margaret lifts puffy, swollen eyes to look at him. "Hey." Her voice is small, and thick with the knowledge of what they have to talk about.

David glances between the two of them. "Why don't I go…get us some food. Let you guys talk?"

"Actually," Graham protests quickly, his voice teetering on the edge of panic. "Can I maybe…can I maybe sit with her for awhile? Just…just us?"

He can't look at the sympathy on Mary Margaret's face. "Of…of course you can, but Graham, we have to-"

"I know," he cuts her off, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "But just…not yet. Please."

"Okay." She stands, and she and David leave him alone with Emma.

Graham forgoes the chair, sitting precariously on the edge of the bed, cupping Emma's cheek with his hand. He thinks about Henry, begging Emma to wake up, the desperate tone of kid who had nothing but a miracle to hope for.

"I love you, Em," he whispers quietly in his new, broken voice, and immediately his throat closes up.

When he leans over, he isn't hoping for a miracle, or magic. He's just out of pleas, and apologies, and goodbyes. So he kisses her, wanting to pretend for just a second that he'll be able to do that for the rest of his life.

He doesn't realize he's crying until he tastes the salty wetness, falling on her lips.

It's soft, gentle, and when he pulls away, he leans his forehead against hers for a moment before straightening up.

Then there's a sharp intake of breath, and suddenly Emma's eyes fly open.

He freezes; her face scrunches up, a low moan escaping from her lips. She blinks rapidly, eyes finally focusing, finding his. "Graham?"

He opens his mouth to speak, but a strangled, unintelligible sound is all he can manage.

So he sweeps forward, capturing her lips in his, and this time she kisses back, but his breath hitches in his throat, sobs threatening him, and Graham has to pull away. His voice is weak and tremulous. "Em…" The single syllable nearly does him in. "You…you're alive…"

He wraps his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

"Graham…" Her voice is taken aback, even as she weakly hugs him back. "It's okay…"

His whole body is shaking, and Emma strokes his back, gently, murmuring soothing reassurances, as though he's the one who nearly died, the one who needs comforting.

Finally, he pulls back, his eyes wide and wet, staring at her like he doesn't quite believe she's real.

It's a look Emma recognizes, and she reaches up and strokes his cheek. "It's okay."

Graham curls his trembling lips together. "No, they…they thought you weren't gonna…they, they said…"

She puts a finger over his lips, expression soft and tender. She remembers, far too well, how it felt before he woke up from the dead. So for now, the sharp, throbbing ache in her body is a distant second priority to the terror swirling in Graham's eyes.

"They were wrong. Okay? I'm right here." She lowers her eyes, eyebrows knitting together as she takes his right hand in both of hers, touching the cast. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he murmurs dismissively, face flushing.

She gives him a look. "_Graham_."

"I…I punched a wall."

"Oh, babe…"

It's maybe the third time he's caught her using an endearment, and for a moment his lips quirk up in his first smile in what feels like years.

It fades quickly at the warm concern in her eyes. "Not a big deal," he tells her, dropping a kiss against her hairline. "I…I got mad…" He exhales, long and shaky. "God, Em, I was so scared."

"I know," she tells him quietly, and he knows she does.

"You better never do that again, Emma, stepping in front of me like that, I c-can't…" His voice hitches, and a tear slides down his cheek. Emma wipes it away with her thumb, eyes softening.

"I'm sorry. It's just…last week, when I thought I lost you…"

"I know," he murmurs, and she knows he does. "Believe me, I know."

Emma scrutinizes him, noting the deep lines of exhaustion etched in his face. She slowly, gently traces the line of his jaw, and slides over in the tiny hospital bed. "C'mere."

It's a close fit, but he slides against her, lying on his side and putting arm gently across Emma's torso. Dimly, he's thinking they should let a doctor know, but can't bring himself to break the moment.

"How do you feel?" He asks softly, mildly ashamed that he hasn't thought to ask earlier.

"I'm fine," she tells him, though he doesn't quite believe her. "What…day is it?"

"Friday afternoon."

Emma closes her eyes, thinking. "And the shooting…Wednesday night?"

"Yeah." He rests his forehead against her temple. "Regina just made Henry leave, but he's been sneaking here as much as he can. Mary Margaret and David barely leave, either."

At that she frowns, shifting slightly so she can look at him. "David?"

"Oh, yeah. He was at the mayor's when it happened."

"Ah." Emma rolls her eyes a little. "Hanging around Mary Margaret I guess."

Graham's quiet for a moment. "They're in the cafeteria, getting food, I wanted some time alone…" He "I should call them, Mary Margaret's been really scared…"

"She has?"

The genuine surprise in Emma's tone breaks his heart a little; it's like she still can't quite believe people care about her.

"Yeah, she's been a wreck. Only went home last night because they would only let one of us stay." Graham starts to sit up, reluctantly. "I should call. Also I should get Dr. Whale, he can talk to you more about the surgery, and, recovery…"

"Wait…" She pulls him back. "Not yet, okay? Just…lay here for a little while longer?"

He smiles, then, laced with exhaustion and relief and so much love it steals her breath. "Of course."

~(OUAT)~

"Emma!"

The name is lost in a shocked cry the second Mary Margaret enters the hospital room. Graham barely has time to get off the bed before Mary Margaret's there, hugging Emma and sobbing.

"You're awake, you're…oh, my God…"

"Okay, okay…I'm alright." Emma says, but she's smiling and hugging back, her eyes unusually bright.

Abruptly, Mary Margaret pulls away, eyes widening with horror. "Oh, God, am I hurting you?" Before Emma can answer, she adds, "How are you feeling? Are you really alright?"

"I am." Emma smiles gratefully at her roommate. "Really. And…thanks. For being here."

"_Always_," she replies vehemently.

Mary Margaret looks back at David and smiles. Emma follows her gaze, and for the first time, her eyes meet David's.

He's hovering by the doorway, a huge, relieved smile splitting his face, and his eyes light up when she looks at him. "Hey, Emma."

"David." She nods in an awkward greeting, but mostly he can just hear the confusion in her voice.

His stomach plummets, smile fading a little, some strange, disconnected sense of longing seeping through him.

It's clear, now that Emma's awake, that he doesn't belong here.

"Um." He pauses. "I'm gonna…I'm gonna go try to find Henry. He should hear the good news, he'll want to see you."

At that, Emma smiles gratefully at him, and it's not much but it's something. "Thanks."

David forces a smile, and just before he leaves, Graham catches his eye. He wonders if he's imagining the sympathy in the sheriff's expression.

~(OUAT)~

David drives by the school, wandering in under the guise of picking up lesson plans for Mary Margaret. Her substitute teacher eyes him with clear disapproval and suspicion, but he doesn't care. He's busy covertly surveying the class.

One quick sweep shows that Henry isn't there. Regina must not have signed him after taking him from the hospital.

He passes the mayor's office. Unsurprisingly, Regina's car is there, so David continues on to her home, hoping that she simply dropped Henry off at the house.

But there's no answer to his knocking there. David goes back to his car, gritting his teeth in frustration. He wants to help, wants to contribute something. More than that, even, they'd all seen Henry's face earlier, thinking he was seeing Emma for the last time. He deserves to be put out of that misery as soon as possible.

Finally, he decides Regina must have taken the boy to the office with her, so she could make sure he doesn't sneak back to hospital. David isn't thrilled about the possibility, but he heads to the mayor's office anyway.

"Mayor Mills, I'm sorry to disturb…"

He stops talking abruptly, freezing in the door of the mayor's office to find Regina sitting not with Henry, but with David's wife.

"David?" Kathryn turns, just as startled by his presence as he is of hers. Her eyes are red rimmed. "Where have you been?"

"The…the hospital." He shifts his eyes to Regina, who's smirking at his discomfort. "I was looking for Henry."

"My son's at home," Regina replies coolly. "He's been grounded for the foreseeable future, but he was a bit on the hysterical side to go back to school today." She arches an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Emma's awake."

For a fraction of a second, Regina's sneer slips, pure rage hardening her face, enough so David takes a physical step back. Then, her calm demeanor returns. "How lovely. I'll let him know."

David pauses, waiting. When Regina does nothing, he says, "Shouldn't you…should you call him? He was pretty upset-"

"He'll find out eventually, _thank you_." Regina exchanges a glance with Kathryn. "You should probably stop worrying so much about my son and the deputy, David."

Kathryn stands before he can respond, tugging on his arm. "Can we talk?"

He follows her into the hallway, and Kathryn says in an undertone, "You shouldn't talk like that, David. I think it really bothers her that Henry's so close to Deputy Swan. It has to be rough on her."

David thinks of how unsympathetic Regina's been, unmoved by the sight of her son's grief and tears over the last few days, not even hurt by it, merely impatient. He fights an urge to roll his eyes.

"You've…been at the hospital all this time?"

"Yes."

Kathryn watches him, waiting for more. Finally, she says hesitantly, "I know how this sounds…but why?"

"What?"

"Why have you been there? You don't really…know any of them?" She sighs. "I guess I'm just confused."

"I…I dunno." He shifts uncomfortably. "They found me, I guess. All of them, Emma, and Graham and Henry and…Mary Margaret." He shrugs. "I guess I just wanted to help out."

Kathryn gives him a helpless look. There's nothing inherently wrong with this argument, but he feels all wrong. He should've called. He should have come home at some point over two days.

"Look, I'm sorry. We can…we can talk more later, I promise. We _should_ talk more…but I have to…I have to go." He turns, adding one last, "I'm sorry."

~(OUAT)~

After Dr. Whale, who hadn't bothered to hide his shock at seeing Emma awake and alert, leaves, Emma manages to convince Graham to go the cafeteria and grab something to eat for the first time in days.

"I'll bring it up here to eat," he keeps reassuring her as he backs out of the room. "I won't be long, I'll be right back…"

"Hey. _Breathe_," Emma commands teasingly. "I will be okay. Take your time. And bring me food."

He nods, smiling sweetly at her before leaving.

Emma watches him go, then turns to find Mary Margaret smiling at her. "Oh, Emma…you are in such trouble."

"What do you mean?"

"Just…that man, and the way he feels about you? You guys are in pretty deep already." Emma starts to protest, but Mary Margaret cuts her off. "You should've seen him, Emma, it was just…oh, God, it was heartbreaking." Emma's face darkens, hating that Graham had been hurting. Then Mary Margaret adds, "Kind of like you, talking about what happened to him last week." Emma lowers her eyes. "That's why you did it, didn't you? You stepped in front of him?"

"There…wasn't even really time to think about it," Emma answers finally. "I saw the man point the gun at Graham, and I just…I got between them. I _had_ to." She falls silent then, not wanting to talk about it anymore.

But Mary Margaret has a way of making Emma spill her guts. All it takes this time is a long drawn out silence, her roommate gazing patiently at her, before Emma continues, "I just didn't want to feel that again, you know? Watching him drop to the floor, not moving…me just sitting there knowing I'd lost him. Especially now." She laughs once, humorlessly. "God, it's been less than two weeks and it would already be so much worse. This…it's a mistake. The further I go into it, the more I have to lose."

"Who says you're going to lose him?"

"Well, he's collapsed in my arms _and _gotten shot at in the past week and a half," Emma states darkly. "But even if nothing like that happens…I don't have good relationships, Mary Margaret. I just don't. I'll screw it up, or he'll get tired of me, or…something."

Mary Margaret's face softens. "I don't think you're hearing me, Emma. Graham _loves_ you."

Emma shakes her head immediately. "Oh, come on, no, he doesn't."

"Em, believe me. It's in his eyes every time he looks at you. He loves you. No question."

Emma lifts her eyes, picking up the hint of sadness in Mary Margaret's voice. "What about you? You think David's been here for the past few days because of me?"

"I don't know…" Mary Margaret's voice trails off curiously. "He actually seemed really worried about you."

"Please. He barely knows me. He was here for you."

Mary Margaret smiles a little. "He has been really great." She looks at Emma for a moment. "Hey. I…I'm really glad you're okay." She swallows hard, throat tightening. "When I thought you might…not make it I...I was really scared."

"Really?" The level of sincerity in her roommate's expression when she nods takes Emma by surprise, and her chest constricts as she smiles shakily at Mary Margaret. "Thanks."

The thank you seems to surprise Mary Margaret. Her brows constrict. "For what?"

"I don't know. Just…for caring."

~(OUAT)~

"Henry?"

With great effort, Henry lifts heavy eyes to see David approaching. He's sitting in the castle, his feet dangling off the edge, leaning listlessly against the wood.

A quick text to Mary Margaret had advised David of this location.

"What?" The boy's voice sounds wrecked, scratchy and flat and angry at the world.

David comes around the side of the castle and looks up at Henry. "Emma's awake."

Henry's eyes widen, his body visibly jolting. "_What_?"

"She woke up." David grins. "She's gonna be fine."

Henry's whole face lights up, a disbelieving smiling splitting his expression. "Really?"

"Really."

The boy starts laughing then, and he jumps down from the castle, David grabbing him when he hits the ground, steadying the landing. "Can you take me?"

"Of course. We can go right now."

~(OUAT)~

"When was the last time you slept?" Emma asks Graham in an undertone. Mary Margaret's in the opposite corner of the small hospital room, listening to voicemails from people calling to ask about Emma.

Graham shrugs. "I got a few bursts of sleep last night, I think."

"Oh, that's very convincing." Emma tells him sarcastically. She starts to say something else, but suddenly closes her eyes and grits her teeth, hand going to her side.

Graham tenses immediately. "Are you okay? Do you need more morphine? I can get Dr. Whale-"

"No, no, it's fine, I…I wanna stay awake for awhile." He nods reluctantly, and Emma wraps a hand around him, gently stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. "You, though…feel free to go home and get some sleep anytime. Okay?"

"I'm good here," he insists, stubborn.

Suddenly the door opens, and Henry, followed closely by David, walks in.

Henry stares at Emma, wide eyed, relief and fear swirling in his eyes.

Emma's eyes immediately well with tears, and she beams at him from the hospital bed. "Hey, kid."

That's all it takes. Henry launches himself at Emma, leaping onto the bed and burying his face against Emma's stomach. Graham sees her wince when Henry falls against her, but Emma instantly wraps her arms around her son, not worrying about the pain, so Graham simply stands up and moves to the doorway, joining David and Mary Margaret, watching the reunion from a distance.

"You're really okay…" Henry's voice is muffled against her stomach, and Emma can feel tears soaking through her hospital gown. She lowers her head, stroking her fingers through Henry's hair, her own tears suddenly flowing freely.

"Yeah, kid, I am…" Emma's throat closes up. Of all the regrets in her life, the biggest one, the one that had haunted her during the terrifying, solitary ride in the ambulance, was how much she'd missed with Henry. How she hadn't had time to even begin to make up for that. She touches the crown of his head. "Henry." He looks up. "I love you. You know that?"

She's never said that and meant it, not to anyone.

A beatific smile lights Henry's face. "I love you, too…Mom."

She can hear the tentativeness in his voice, the heartbeat of hesitation before the word, and a sob lifts from Emma's throat as she pulls her son against her, kissing the crown of his head.

Henry sits up after a moment, beaming at Emma. She smiles back, brushing away the last streaks of tears from his cheeks. She catches Graham's eye over Henry's shoulder and smiles. Henry, following her gaze, twists around and grins at the sheriff.

"Did you do it?" He mouths.

Graham nods and shoots him a thumbs up.

Henry scrambles off the bed and runs over, hugging Graham hard.

"Whoa…" Emma laughs a little, wiping the corner of her baby blanket across her face. "I'm feeling a bit rejected."

Henry grins at her over his shoulder. "Sorry." He looks back up at Graham, and whispers so only he can hear, "I knew you could save her."

Emma watches the two of them, and her eyes lock with Graham's over the top of Henry's head, the soft tenderness in his eyes, that dark, bruised blue, eliciting a fresh wave of tears.

Mary Margaret wipes the back of her hand under her eyes, turning to smile at David, only to find that he's slipped out of the room.

~(OUAT)~

"Graham. You need sleep."

"Don't worry about me. I can sleep anywhere," he insists for the dozenth or so time.

Emma gives a melodramatic groan. "Mary Margaret. Help me out here?"

Mary Margaret slings her bag over her shoulder and grins fondly at the two of them. "Sorry, Emma. I'm not touching that one." She walks over to the bed and hugs Emma. "If you think of anything else you need from the house just call me before I come back in the morning."

"I will." Emma pulls back and smiles. "Thanks, Mare. For everything."

Then she's gone, and Emma's heading toward fogginess from pain meds, so Graham turns off the life and settles down in his chair, pillowing his head on his arms on the edge of the bed.

"You don't really think you're sleeping there, do you?" Emma murmurs, cutting her eyes at him as she slides over on the bed.

"Em, that bed is really small."

"I don't care, Graham, I'm not letting you sleep in a chair." Graham visibly hesitates, and finally a bit of the impatience falls away from Emma's face and she looks up at him. "Please?"

So he nods, because he can hear in her voice that she needs it to, that she wants him close. So without further argument, Graham moves into the space Emma's made for him, turning on his side, her back against his chest, and wraps his arms around her.

His lips brush her temple, just above her ear, and he whispers, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For waking up."

He can't see her face, but can hear her smile in her voice when she answers, "Just returning the favor."

"Well, we're even now. So no need for you to go scaring me like again, alright?"

"Kay," Emma murmurs sleepily. "Did you find the guy?"

"What guy?"

"The shooter guy. Who broke into Henry's house."

"Oh." Graham's stomach clenches, because for awhile, he's let himself forget about everything except for the fact that Emma woke up. "No we didn't."

Emma makes a disappointed noise then relaxes against him, but Graham can feel the beginnings of anxiety flaring in his chest.

Regina's failed to kill him twice now, but more importantly, she now had her hopes up to being rid of Emma, the bigger threat, and failed at that.

This isn't over.

Unconsciously, he tightens his hold on Emma just a little, as though that's all he needs to protect her.

~(OUAT)~

_A/N: Woo. So. The first major source of angst is kaput. But, as Graham is realizing, this is far from over. Regina just getting started. Definitely, definitely send me a review to let me know what you think, and hope you keep reading. Also, feel free to message me if you ever want to talk about the show, Graham, Graham/Emma, The Charmings, etc. I'm also on Tumblr (doctor-brennan) so add me there, too! _

_Update coming at you soon._


	7. These Broken Hands of Mine

A/:N Hey guys! Thanks so much for all the reviews, sorry this one took awhile to get posted…I just finished my last week of classes, and I had a film plus about three final papers due. The next few weeks are pretty much nothing but free time, so updates should be fast again from now on.

These Broken Hands Of Mine

_Take a breath, I close my eyes  
>I am lost but try to find<br>What it is in this life that gives me strength enough  
>To fight for something more<em>

_Well, God knows my feet are aching_  
><em>And I've got mountains ahead to climb<em>

_One way at a time I'll try to lend these broken hands of mine_  
><em>Give my strength, be my light<em>  
><em>One way at a time these walls will fall and fill our empty souls<em>  
><em>Give me strength, help me guide these broken hands of mine<em>

The first thing Emma sees when she walks into the apartment is a banner, strung above the nearest visible wall.

_WELCOME HOME, EMMA! _Is scrawled in marker against stapled together bits of construction paper. The letters start out red, fading slightly on the 'm' in home, and then switch to a blue.

Emma's face immediately melts into a smile, and Mary Margaret glances sideways at her, smiling back. "Henry worked on it all yesterday…and on those." She nods toward the kitchen counter; a plate of carefully iced cupcakes sits on display.

"That's sweet. Thanks for helping him." Emma starts toward the cupcakes, but Mary Margaret grabs her shoulders and gently steers her in the direction of the bedroom.

"I'll bring you one. You need to get to bed."

Emma groans. "We were serious about that?"

"About the bed rest the _doctor_ insisted on? Pretty serious, yeah."

Sighing dramatically and audibly, Emma nonetheless obeys. She'll never admit it, but just the walk from the car to the apartment had worn her out. Her side is aching; she hasn't quite adjusted to the transition from morphine to pain pills.

She hesitates in the door of her bedroom. After a week and a half in the hospital, the apartment is a welcome sight.

It hits her all at once how good it is to finally have somewhere to come back to. For the first time in her life, Emma Swan has let herself think of a place as home.

She'd planned to take a shower, but all the walking took more of a toll than she'd expected, and her bed looks so soft and large and inviting. So Emma slides off Graham's leather coat, which he'd put on her when they gotten out of the hospital, and crawls under the covers.

Her eyes drift shut as she burrows her face in the pillow, and Emma's hit with the vague, comforting scent of cinnamon and perfume she associates with her roommate.

Mary Margaret sweeps into the room then, carrying a plate with three cupcakes and a steaming mug of hot chocolate. "Here you go." Then, off the soft, half teasing smile on Emma's face, "What?"

"Nothing. Thanks." Emma takes a sip of the hot chocolate before setting the mug next to the cupcakes on her bedside table. Her whole adult life, she's been very serious about her personal space; she'd spent too many years in foster homes, kids piling on top of each other, going through each other's limited possessions. But there's something about Mary Margaret sleeping in her bed that makes her oddly…well, warm and fuzzy.

Emma slides over on the bed, nodding at the space. Mary Margaret smiles and sits down beside her, her back propped up against the pillows. "I'm really glad you're home."

She's clearly more tired than she thought, because Emma's vision blurs at the word. She closes her eyes, exhaling theatrically to hide her emotion. "Oh, me, too. Hospital beds have nothing on this one."

"Oh, sorry, I should let you sleep. Dr. Whale says those pills will really knock you out."

Emma feels the bed shift beneath her, and her eyes fly open. "You don't have to go."

Mary Margaret pauses, looking down at Emma, her lips quirking in a small smile. "Okay." So she settles back against the pillows, grabbing a cupcake for herself, and within a few minutes, Emma's asleep beside her.

~OUAT~

When she opens her eyes again, the space beside her is empty, but someone's stroking her hair, lazy, leisurely strokes that sometimes still completely for long periods at a time.

She takes her time in sitting up, blinking blearily at her surroundings. Graham's sitting on the edge of her bed, his left hand tangled in her hair, his right, casted hand holding a file.

There are stacks of paperwork and folders all over the bed. "Bringing me paperwork already? My boss is a hardass."

He lifts his head, noticing her, and smiles immediately. "Hi." He waves a hand at the papers. "Don't worry, paperwork's all for me. Until you're back at work, this is our office."

Emma lifts an eyebrow, smirking. "So this _is_ about getting to me to do paperwork?"

He leans forward, grinning. "You never do it at the office, thought a change of setting might inspire you." Emma whacks him on the arm, Graham kisses her gently.

Pulling back, she purses her lips. "Have you been eating my cupcakes?"

"Maybe," he replies with a sly grin. "They're chocolate." Emma laughs. "How you feeling, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Emma smiles wryly. "It's good to be back in this bed, but I think it's going to drive me crazy for the next week."

Graham makes a sympathetic noise, putting down his files and moving a little closer to her on the bed. "Better than the hospital, though, huh?"

"I guess," Emma replies, pulling a pouty face.

"Besides," Graham murmurs, stretching out parallel to her and dropping his lips close to her ear. "We can think of some ways to spend the time."

Emma lifts her eyes to find his, her lips curling into a grin. "Oh, really?"

"Mmm-hmm…" Graham leans over her, moving his face closer to hers until their noses bump together. Then, abruptly, he draws back, snatching his hand from the other side of the bed, brandishing a file. "Once you get bored enough, you may actually fill out some paperwork."

She grabs the folder and smacks him with it, unsuccessfully hiding her smile.

~OUAT~

He hasn't been able to shake it. The terror.

He'd gone home three nights of the past ten since Emma woke up, swapping duty with Mary Margaret only at Emma's insistence that he get some decent sleep. But those were the nights he'd barely slept at all.

Emma's been bored and frustrated and, though it takes a lot to get her to admit it, in pain. So he spends most of his time trying to make her smile, make her laugh. He or Mary Margaret (or both of them) stayed in the hospital room with her at all times, with David running point on sneaking Henry in as much as possible, as well as picking up food for the entire group.

So Graham smiles. He teases her. And at night, he holds her, burying his face in her hair, and only then does he allow the crippling, overwhelming terror to rush through his body.

He'd believed she was going to die. That bone deep grief, that level of devastation…he couldn't just shake that off in the time it took for Emma to open her eyes.

That night, her first night home, Graham curls beside Emma, as close as if they were still in the tiny twin bed in the hospital.

Not much earlier, Emma had been insisting she wouldn't be able to sleep after her nap, but twenty minutes after taking her pain meds, her breathing has evened out, eyes closed.

Graham inhales deeply. Her hair smells vaguely of vanilla, her usual shampoo, and he smiles a little at the return of the familiar scent. But the smile doesn't hold. The terror's gnawing at him again, mind spinning.

There is still Regina. Emma has no idea how much danger she's in, and Graham still isn't sure how to protect her.

For a long time, Graham lies awake, silently planning.

~OUAT~

Mary Margaret's been home from school for all of ten minutes the next day when there's a knock on the door.

"David, hi." She smiles warmly at him, eyes darting to the flowers in his hand. "Oh, those are beautiful."

He smiles. "For Emma." He sees it, the briefest flicker of disappointment across her face, and his eyes sparkle in relief as he pulls a second batch from behind his back. "_These_ are for you."

She flushes, taking them. "Thank you, you…didn't have to do that. I didn't just get home from the hospital."

"I know. Hers are a little bigger." He grins, teasing, and Mary Margaret laughs appreciatively.

"Come on in."

David's been great over the last week and a half, always available; picking up Henry, taking food orders, back and forth to the hospital whenever he's asked.

Now, he glances hesitantly toward Emma's room. "Is, um…is she awake?"

"Yeah, you can go on in," Mary Margaret tells him gently. For all his errand running over the past few weeks, David never spent much time in Emma's room, and now he seems strangely nervous. "Graham's with her. Go ahead."

David nods, moving across the apartment and tapping lightly on the bedroom door.

"Come in!"

"Hi." David comes tentatively into the bedroom, holding the flowers like a shield. "These are, uh, for you."

"Hey, thanks," Emma's lips are quirked in the amused grin she always has around David, who's holding out the flowers but making no move to come toward her. She cuts her eyes at Graham. "Could you…?"

"Sure…no cheating…" He stands up from the edge of the bed, putting his hand of cards facedown next to the pile between them, and plucks the flowers from David's hand, smiling warmly at the other man. "I'll grab a vase…"

Graham steps out of the room, and David awkwardly moves a little closer to the bed. "So…good to be home?"

"Definitely," Emma runs a hand through her hair, sitting up a little. "I'm already sick of bed rest, though."

"Yeah, I bet."

There's a few beats of silence, then Emma says, "Thank you, again, for everything you did…especially getting Henry to the hospital so often."

"No, it was no problem at all. He needed to be there."

Again, silence settles around them. Emma sighs slightly, not sure why Graham's deliberately leaving them alone for so long.

Emma narrows her eyes at him slightly, a challenging look flashing in her gaze. "So. How's Kathryn?"

He tenses visibly, lowering his eyes. "Fine. I think she's fine, I…haven't been home in a few days."

Emma looks at him curiously, nearly asking if Mary Margaret knows that, but she bites back the question. She'll ask later, and simply says, "Oh." The silence reigns again.

"So," David's tone is so deliberately conversational she nearly laughs. "How much longer do you have to take it easy?"

"The rest of the week, at least."

"Right." Finally, David seems to give up, surveying the room with uncommon interest until, finally, Graham comes back in the room, two mugs in his good hand, the vase with flowers, tucked awkwardly between his elbow and chest in the other.

"Here you go, Em."

"Mmm, thank you." She smiles at him, taking one mug, and Graham sets the flowers down before offering the second mug to David.

"Cocoa?"

David shakes his head, backing out of the room. "No, thanks, I'll get out of your way." He lifts a hand, waving awkwardly. "Bye, Emma. Glad you're feeling better, I'll…I'll see ya."

She smiles, still amused. "Thanks for coming by. And thanks for the flowers." When the door closes behind David, Emma turns to Graham, laughing incredulously. "God, he has been _so_ weird lately. Hope he's not trying to hit on me…"

Graham splutters against the rim of his mug, hot cocoa dripping on his shirt. Still, he can barely speak through breathless laughter. "David…is not…hitting on you…"

She arches one eyebrow, waiting until his laughter subsides. "What is your problem?"

Shaking his head, Graham looks at her, amused. "He just isn't. Believe me."

Emma shoots him a challenging look, smirking. "You jealous?"

Graham makes a scoffing sound. "No. Believe me, I am in no way jealous of David Nolan."

Emma rolls her eyes. "I was kidding, anyway, you dork. He's too busy making dreamy eyes at Mary Margaret to hit on anyone else." Grinning, she tugs on Graham's shirt, pulling him closer. "Although, _you_ are awfully cocky. Leaving me alone in my bedroom with other men…not jealous of anybody.,,"

He smiles, leaning his forehead against hers. "Do I need to be jealous?"

She touches his lips lightly with hers, just for a nanosecond. "Nope." Then, more insistently, she kisses him again.

~OUAT~

Mary Margaret glances up and smiles at him when David comes out of Emma's bedroom. "How'd it go?"

"Oh, good. Fine." David pauses, seeming to consider. "Glad to see her doing so well."

"Mmm-hmm." Mary Margaret smiles at him. There's something oddly endearing about David's awkward attempts to talk to Emma, but they always seem to bring to some strange stab of sympathy. "I think she's already sick of taking it easy, though."

"Yeah…" David's brow is furrowed, his expression focused.

He stands in the middle of their living room, showing no sign of leaving, and Mary Margaret watches him silently for a moment before offering, "You want to sit down? Have some cocoa?"

His eyes snap to her for the first time in the conversation, and David smiles gratefully. "Sure. Thanks."

He pulls himself up on a stool at the breakfast nook as Mary Margaret pours him a mug. David watches how carefully she sprinkles cinnamon, artfully arranges whipped cream, and he's smiling by the time she slides the mug at him.

"Thanks."

For a moment, there's only the sound of quiet slurping then, lowering her eyes to her own mug and attempting a casual voice, Mary Margaret asks, "So are you still at Granny's?"

There's a heartbeat of hesitation, and then David replies, "yeah", with all the gravity of confirming the weather outside.

He and Kathryn had had a fight a few days ago, the first fight since he woke up with any sort of anger behind it, when she'd finally grown fed up of him spending all his time going back and forth from the hospital. He'd been staying at Granny's for the past three nights, following Kathryn's comment: _Honestly, you should just go running off to the hospital right now, because I don't even _want_ to see you!_

Trying not to show too much interest, Mary Margaret asks, "You two talked at all?"

"Not a word," he replies, leaving out the fact that she's called him several times.

Mary Margaret forces a reassuring smile, forcing herself into the role of the caring and concerned friend; the same role David's been playing for the last few weeks. "I'm sure if you just talk, she'll be glad to let you come home…"

Finally, David lifts his head and deliberately meets her eyes, his voice serious. "Actually, I don't think I want to go back."

Her body goes still, and Mary Margaret can't pull her gaze from his. "Oh, why…why not?"

"It's just…I don't want to be there." His face darkens. "You called it…_home_. But it never felt like it. Even after the memories came back, I thought it would connect but it still…I remembered it, but it didn't _feel_ familiar, you know?" He shakes his head a little, frustrated. David knows how strange it sounds. He knows he doesn't have the words to describe that strange disconnect between his memory and what he feels.

But Mary Margaret just watches him, her eyes patient and nonjudgmental. She looks like she _wants_ to understand, and there's something so welcoming about that. So he keeps talking.

"These last few days, it's been such a _relief_. Going back to the B&B every night, not having to…_prepare_ myself every time I walk through the door to see Kathryn." David sighs. "I know we had a fight, but…I was just waiting for an excuse. She didn't kick me out, I left and I…I don't want to go back." David sighs, his face falling a little. "Do you…do you think I'm a bad person?" David looks at her, beseechingly, a hint of desperation slipping into his voice.

"Of _course_ not." It's automatic, and the strength of her conviction surprises even Mary Margaret; it seems to suggest they've known each other much longer than have.

For a long moment, Mary Margaret just looks at him, unsure of what to say. Sympathy is dovetailing with a vague sense of hope, followed immediately by a surge of guilt.

He keeps talking, voice hesitant. "It's just…I kept thinking that it wasn't fair…to end my marriage over something that wasn't her fault, you know? But now I just think…this isn't fair either. It's not fair to Kathryn that every time I'm wishing I was…somewhere else."

His eyes soften a little, and Mary Margaret lowers her gaze, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. Her mind is snagged on the phrase _end my marriage_, her pulse quickening.

"I think I'm going to ask for a divorce." He pauses, as though absorbing the weight of the words, and Mary Margaret looks up at him again, eyes widening in surprise. "It's just…I thought I should wait. I thought, after my memories came back that I should just wait, and eventually I'd feel normal again." He laughs a little. "But I…I see what happened to Emma, and I saw that look on Graham's face when he thought she might die…and I don't want to wait anymore. I don't want to wait around to feel what I think I'm…_supposed_ to be feeling when I…I know how I feel _now_."

Mary Margaret's breath catches in the back of her throat. For a long moment, they just look at each other. She doesn't have to ask what it is he feels; his eyes say it all.

The corner of David's mouth quirks up, and he slides his hand over hers on the counter, movements hesitant. His fingers are warm from clutching the mug of cocoa.

He looks nervous, watching Mary Margaret closely, checking her reaction. She turns her hand over, their palms pressing together, fingers lacing, and she squeezes gently, still holding his eyes with hers, silently answering the questions he won't say out loud.

_Yes, I still feel the same way._

_Yes, I'm happy about this._

_Yes, I can wait a little longer._

~OUAT~

Emma's been home for several days when he finally does it.

Henry's visiting, and David is as well; his presence in the house has only increased over the last few days. Emma's on the living room couch, and the four of them (Emma, her parents, her son) are starting their third game of Clue when Graham puts down the file he's working on and stands.

"I'm going to run by the station…be back in an hour or so?"

Emma nods distractedly, watching Henry move his piece across the board. "Sounds good…"

He drops a kiss on the top of her head, and Emma looks away from the game long enough to smile at him. "See ya."

"Back soon," Graham promises. "Bye, guys."

The others give murmured, absent replies, all too engrossed in the game to pay him much attention. Graham pauses in the doorway and watches them for a moment, allowing himself a quick smile before leaving.

He drives to the mayor's office; Henry's presence at Emma and Mary Margaret's meant there was a good chance Regina was still at work, and soon, Graham's pulling in across the street, the light in Regina's office confirming his guess.

The door to the mayor's office is slightly open, and Graham steps inside and waits for her to look up and notice him. A smirk curls Regina's lips. "Sheriff. What a novelty to see you away from your deputy's bedroom."

Graham's jaw tightens, startled by the level of anger the washes over him. He still isn't used to it; the rage that comes with his knowledge.

"We need to talk," he states flatly, trying to inject an authority he doesn't feel into his tone.

Regina gives him a mock surprised look, replying sardonically, "Sounds an awful lot like a break up line, Graham, and you already did that."

"You can drop the act," he says in a low voice. "No one here but me and you."

"Have it your way," Regina states with a casual shrug. "What can I do for you, _Huntsman_?"

There's something mocking in the way she uses his old title, the closest thing he had to a human name before the curse. He doesn't care; _Huntsman_ was always dismissive or mocking on her lips, even before. He's used to that. _Graham_ isn't hers anymore. That belongs to Emma. And Henry, and Mary Margaret, and David, and a few of the other oblivious, cursed townspeople in Storybrooke.

Graham narrows his eyes at her. "I want to know what it is that you want from me."

Regina rolls her eyes, amused. "Have I not made myself clear? You are, as you always have been, inconsequential to me. What makes you think I want anything from you?"

"Maybe the fact that you've tried to kill me twice in the last few weeks," Graham retorts in a clear, measured voice. "If I was so useless and _inconsequential_, why would you bother?"

For the first time, irritation flashes in Regina's eyes. Graham approaches her desk, glaring at her. "You can do what you want to me; you don't have my heart anymore, you have no control over me. But you almost killed Emma. So you need tell me what the hell it is you want."

Regina smirks, but her eyes flash with real anger for the first time. "How _touching_. And here I thought you weren't much for other humans."

A low snarl lifts from Graham's throat, something wild and primal flashing in his eyes. "_Leave her alone_." It's as much growl as anything, and Graham swallows hard, forcing himself to sound calmer. "What threat is she to you? She's not even from our world."

He's thought about this. While he's sure Regina is at least fairly certain that Emma is the savior, the one capable of breaking her curse, she doesn't know that Graham, or even Henry, is aware of that. And Graham needs to keep it that way.

He can see it, the brief flash of realization in Regina's eyes, followed by a quick flash of relief. She collects herself quickly, smoothly replying, "Then why are you so concerned?"

"She nearly _died_," Graham grits out. "Right now, she's no threat to you. I haven't said anything about the curse, to anyone, but I could…maybe they won't believe me, but I'm guessing you don't want all that talk going around." Graham leans closer, and speaks in a dangerously low voice, "So I'll ask again. _What is it you want?_"

Regina stands, leaning forward on her desk so her face is closer to his. "You don't get to call the shots here, Huntsman. For right now, you just take care of your bedridden deputy, and keep your mouth shut." She gives him a sneering grin, patting her palm against his cheek. Graham recoils as though he's been burned and, unruffled, Regina purrs, "That's enough. For now. If the two of you start to become more of a problem to me….well. I guess we'll talk then."

~OUAT~

By the next week, Emma's doing physical therapy, which sometimes mean simple walks around the block at home, and sometimes means going into the hospital for more intensive follow up work.

That Wednesdays a hospital day. She goes in the morning, when Mary Margaret's at school. Graham's supposed to take her, but there's a shoplifting incident five minutes before they're about to leave, and Graham's the one who suggests they call David to give her a ride.

"I had surgery, Graham. In the…stomach region. Not my feet. Not my hands. Sure as hell not my eyes, so I don't really see what's stopping me from driving myself."

He gives her a look, groaning good naturedly. "Mainly because the doctor said no driving to physical therapy. You're always exhausted after, what if something happens?"

"Nothing's going to-"

"Em. Please." He lifts pleading eyes to hers, and Emma stops talking. Her stubborn independence always pulls up short against his fear. Her instinct might have been to pull away from such concern, but she's got the all too sharp memory of the minutes Graham was dead in her arms.

She sighs melodramatically. "Fine. Call David. Subject me to the most awkward car ride of my life."

"Gladly." Graham grins, relieved, and makes the phone call.

Predictably, David eagerly agrees, and soon Graham's on his way to what passes as a crime scene in Storybrooke, while Emma is in fact enduring an awkward car ride with David.

He's been around the apartment a lot, recently, seemingly just hanging out with Mary Margaret. He's joined the two roommates (and Graham, and occasionally Henry) for several meals and game nights and simple conversations.

Yet when it's just the two of them, David still has that same nervous energy from when Emma was in the hospital.

"You can change the music if you want," David tells her, waving vaguely in the direction of the car radio.

"This is fine."

"You cold or anything? I can turn down the AC."

"I'm all good. Really." Emma cuts her eyes at him and grins. It is a little endearing, his incessant, slightly anxious desire to please. The silence of the car carries for a moment, and then Emma hears herself saying, "Do I make you nervous?"

David laughs a little. "You know, you do, a little bit. "

Emma arches an eyebrow, amused. "Why's that?"

"I…really don't know." And he doesn't. Just like he doesn't know why the sight of Emma bleeding out in Graham's arms had shook him with some bone deep terror. Just like he doesn't know why he's been drawn to Mary Margaret from the moment he woke up. So he shrugs, and tells her another truth he can't explain, "I just…I want you to like me." He winces a little, then smiles sheepishly at her. "Not sure why."

"Cause of Mary Margaret?" Emma suggests, rolling her eyes a little. "Because I'm her roommate."

"Well, yeah. I mean…you're her best friend."

Emma looks a little startled at the phrase. She turns to look at David fully. "Yeah?"

His eyebrows knit together, and he gives her a strange look. "Yeah, of course you are. She told me."

A slow smile spreads across Emma's face, eyes soft and faraway, like she's marveling at the very concept. David catches a glimpse of her expression, and his chest constricts without warning.

They're quiet for a moment, and then Emma shakes herself slightly, then says bluntly, "Listen, David. Mary Margaret…she's been really happy lately, so I've decided to take you hanging around so much as a good thing. But I know you're not living at home anymore, you may or may not be separated…in other words, you're still complicated." She pauses, waiting until he pulls to a stop at a traffic light and looks over at her. "So I swear to God, David, if you're leading her on again, if she gets hurt _at all_-"

"I'm not. Leading her on," he says quickly, not giving her time to follow through on the threat. "I promise. And…I don't want to hurt her anymore." David pauses, then states firmly, "I'm asking Kathryn for a divorce."

Emma arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. "When?"

"I…soon."

"What are you waiting for, exactly?" David pulls up to the front of the hospital doors, planning to let Emma walk in before he parks, but she just twists to look him in the eye, not moving to get out of the car. "You waiting for it to get easier? Less uncomfortable? Less hurtful for her? Because that's not going to happen."

"I know. You're right." He half smiles wryly at her. "You're the deputy. Know any good lawyers?"

"I haven't been here very long, remember?" She unbuckles her seatbelt, then grins at him. "We can ask Graham, though."

~OUAT~

She hates admitting it, but physical therapy, the hospital version anyway, is still exhausting. It's frustrating, because Emma's always been one to rush recovery, to push through pain, but between Mary Margaret and Graham, she's on a very strict, 'doctors orders' recovery schedule.

And physical therapy is tiring. So she's asleep when Graham shows up in the afternoon.

He knows she hates sleeping so much, and has been griping to get back on a more normalized routine, so he kisses her awake without feeling too guilty about disturbing the nap.

Emma blinks blearily up at him and smiles. "Hey."

"Hey yourself."

"You solve the crime?" Her voice is teasing.

"Oh, yeah. It was just a couple kids. No fancy sheriffing…_this_ time."

"Oh, so an unusually quiet day," she says sarcastically. "Storybrooke _is_ the crime capital of…Maine…" Her voice trails off, her eyes drifting lower to his leather jacket. "Your jacket's moving."

"Oh, yeah, I was gonna show you…" Graham smiles a little, then lifts an orange furred kitten from his pocket. It's impossibly tiny, no bigger than his hand, its eyes the huge, milky blue of a newborn. "Someone found him abandoned behind the diner, brought him to the shelter." Graham runs a finger gently down the kittens back, cradling him protectively in his other hand. "He's too young to be away from his mother, couldn't leave him alone in the shelter all night."

Emma sighs, eyes dancing as she watches him. "You are _so_ not fair."

Graham looks up at her. "What'd I do?" His expression is genuinely bewildered, like he really doesn't understand what's so irresistible about a grown man cradling a tiny animal with impossible gentleness.

"Nothing…" Emma murmurs, finding it impossible to stop smiling at him. "Can I…?"

"Here…" Graham sets the kitten down on Emma's comforter, right on her lap, and she scoops him up.

"I always wanted a pet, when I was a kid," she murmurs absently.

"None of your, um…none of the homes ever had any?"

"Not usually, no. I guess it was an extra mouth to feed…one they weren't getting paid for." Emma grimaces a little, hating how she's still bitter after so many years, hating that there's some small part of her that still feels like the scared, unwanted kid who never had anyone. Changing the subject, she asks, "What's his name?"

Graham smiles. "He didn't exactly tell me."

The kitten gives a small, pitiful mew, and Graham stands from the bed. "I'll be right back. I'm gonna borrow some milk to put in this eyedropper…give the little guy some food."

He leaves the bedroom, as Emma rolls her eyes and mutters to herself, _"So _not fair."

The kitten's exploring a little, walking in small, uncertain circles around Emma's blankets. She can't help but smile a little as she watches the awkward exploration, and Emma thinks idly that maybe Henry would like a pet, even if it was just a part time one.

When Graham returns, carefully holding an eyedropper full of milk, Emma announces. "I'm naming him. Prince Charming. Prince, for short, I guess. Thought Henry might get a kick out of it."

Graham smirks, like he's thinking of some private joke. "That was a pretty quick attachment."

"We bonded," Emma states dryly. "Prince thinks you're overprotective, too."

Graham winces, mock hurt. "Low blow." He sits on the bed and gently lifts the kitten up with one hand, the other nudging the eyedropper toward Prince's eager mouth. "Little guy was hungry."

A few minutes later, Prince has finished eating and is pacing between Emma and Graham on the bed when they hear the door to the apartment open and close.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret's voice calls.

"Mare, get in here!"

Expectantly, Mary Margaret appears in the door, and immediately dissolves into a smitten pile of _awwww_'s when she sees the kitten. "Oh, she is precious. From the shelter?"

Graham nods, while Emma corrects, "He. His name's Prince."

Mary Margaret frowns, confused. "Like the singer?"

"Like Prince Charming." At her roommate's surprised look, Emma shrugs. "Thought Henry'd like him."

"Well, who wouldn't? He's a cutie." Mary Margaret states, stroking the kittens back. "Worthy of the title, I think."

~OUAT~

Graham's quick to cut off his alarm in the middle of the night, but Emma wakes up anyway, and she feels the bed shift beneath her as Graham goes to the cardboard box they set up in the corner of Emma's bedroom.

Emma opens her eyes halfway, watching his silhouette as he lifts the kitten up and begins feeding it from the eyedropper they'd prepared before going to sleep. She can hear his voice, quiet murmuring to the tiny animal.

"There you go, little guy…that's it, drink up…"

Her eyes drift shut again, his voice washing over her, and Emma's heart feels too big for her chest, a rush of tenderness rippling through her, so strong her eyes fill with tears.

She's never felt like this before.

Soon, Graham settles back in bed, his every movement as gentle as possible so she won't wake up. He moves close to her, carefully wrapping an arm around her as he spoons her from behind, and Emma feels an overwhelming and contradictory rush of safety and fear.

There's a question she's always fighting, but it's the least escapable at night, in these quiet moments in the dark when she and Graham are wrapped together. She would never ask him, never even admit to him she worries about it, but it's right there on the tip of her tongue when she looks at him.

_How are you going to hurt me?_

It seems impossible, really, that he ever would. Graham makes her feel loved, and safe, and wanted. He bulldozes right through walls that had been years in the making, and all he has to do is smile for her to feel an unwavering sense of trust.

But that deep rooted belief that she doesn't get to be happy, that everyone always abandon her in the end…it's been around far too long for her to shake.

~OUAT~

_A/N: _So. This was a bit of a filler, plot wise, but some important stuff happened, and I wanted to kind of cover Emma's recovery before we really get into what's happening next…cause big stuff is coming.


	8. Never Let Me Go

_A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the delay on updating…the last few days of finals got busier than I expected. This chapter's a little shorter, but it's setting up some pretty big things in the coming chapter, so love to hear what you think._

Chapter Eight: Never Let Me Go

_And the arms of the ocean are carrying me,  
>And all this devotion was rushing out of me,<br>And the crashes are heaven, for a sinner like me,  
>The arms of the ocean deliver me.<em>

_Though the pressure's hard to take,_  
><em>It's the only way I can escape,<em>  
><em>It seems a heavy choice to make,<em>  
><em>Now I am under.<em>

"Charming?"

David's head snaps up to look at Henry. Almost immediately, he frowns, not sure where the reflex came from. The ten year old is smirking at him, eyes glittering with amusement.

"Who's Charming?" he asks finally.

"I was talking to Emma's cat," Henry informs him with an amused grin. He's sitting on the floor, dragging a rope with a tiny ball attached to it around for the kitten to chase.

"I thought the cat's name was Prince," David comments, returning to his task of chopping tomatoes.

Beside him in the kitchen, Mary Margaret clarifies, "Prince Charming." She smiles at him. "To use his full title."

Henry pulls the kitten onto his lap, rubbing its stomach and feeling the hum of Prince's purrs. He lifts his gaze, watching David and Mary Margaret, and smiles to himself. He likes watching them together, his grandparents. He likes that at school, he knows why his teacher is so happy all the time.

He likes hanging out with his whole family at once, even if none of them know they're famly.

Well, except for Graham. Henry counts him, now, as family. It's such a weird, cool twist to the story….the Hunstman who spared Snow White's life falling in love with her daughter.

As though conjured by his thoughts, Graham and Emma come inside then.

Graham sniffs the air immediately. "Smells good in here."

Emma, predictably, moves straight into the living room, sitting next to Henry and picking up the kitten.

"Don't say hey to anyone else, Em," Graham teases her.

"What'd the doctor say?" David asks then.

Finally, Emma looks up and grins. "All clear."

"Really?" Henry exclaims excitedly. "So you can go back to work?"

"Starting tomorrow."

"Yes!" Henry high fives Graham.

"That's great, Emma," Mary Margaret tells her, smiling. She opens the oven, checking the lasagna, then announces, "Dinner's almost ready. You guys make sure to wash your hands, you've been playing with the cat."

Emma rolls her eyes fondly, gently returning Prince to ground. "Thanks, _Mom_."

Henry catches Graham's eye and they grin.

They have dinner, all five of them together. Henry loves every second of it.

During a lull, he catches his mother's eye across the table. "Hey…Emma?"

There's always a slight, nanosecond of hesitation before he says her name now. There's a weight to it, an uncertainty, like he wants to be calling her something else but isn't sure if he's allowed outside the drama and gravity of the hospital room.

"Since you get to go back to work tomorrow, we should celebrate."

David looks up and grin at him. "This isn't enough of a celebration?"

"Well, we were gonna have dinner anyway," Henry replies matter of factly. He looks at Emma expectantly.

She grins. "Tell you what. Come by the station tomorrow after school. We'll figure something out."

~(OUAT)~

"Think Prince'll like hanging out here?"

Graham glances over at the kitten, curled in Emma's lap, purring contentedly. "I think Prince likes hanging out wherever you are." He walks over to her desk chair and leans over, tipping his forehead against hers. "I understand the feeling." Graham kisses, lightly. "I'm glad you're back."

Emma grins, spinning slightly in the desk, glancing at the clock. "I can see why," she states dryly. "I really don't understand how you've been handling all this rampant crime alone."

"It's been a challenge," he acknowledges sardonically. "All that paperwork getting done…it's been downright unsettling."

"Okay, okay. You need to let that joke go." He chuckles softly, perching on her desk and Emma arches an eyebrow at him. "And anyway, I helped you with paperwork. Once."

"Yeah, alright. I'll give you _once_."

The door to the station swings open, then, and Henry bursts inside. "Hey, guys." His eyes land on the cat and he grins. "Oh, awesome, you brought Prince to work?"

Emma ruffles Henry's hair a little as he comes over, leaning his backpack against the desk and picking up the kitten. "Yeah, well. Every sheriff's office needs a pet."

"It's usually a dog," Graham points out.

Emma cuts her eyes at him. "You'd probably prefer a wolf, huh?"

Henry turns to look at Graham, that same secret smile on his face. Graham winks.

Henry sets Prince down gingerly on top of Emma's desk. The kitten walks tentatively to the edge, glancing over and seemingly realizes the height, letting out a pitiful mew for help. Graham gently scoops him up, while Emma watches with a soft smile.

"So…" Henry looks back and forth between the two of them, expectantly. "Can we go celebrate now?"

~(OUAT)~

It's sunset when she sees them. She's in Sydney's car, parked across the street from the sheriff's office, the surveillance one of the simpler ways she's keeping tabs on the Huntsman.

They're walking down the street, eating milkshakes with spoons. Henry. The Huntsman (Graham, she reminds herself). And _her_.

Regina narrows her eyes, watching the scene.

Graham has his arm around Emma, and Henry walks a few paces in front of them, chattering away. He's smiling. They're all smiling. Graham and Emma look at each other, grinning fondly at whatever Henry's saying. Emma waves her spoon in the Graham's face, taunting, and he takes a bite. Henry turns around and says something. Emma playfully ruffles his hair, and Graham extracts his arm from around her and snags Henry's cup, running off. Henry chases him. Emma watches the two, laughing.

Regina's blood is boiling. The whole thing makes her sick with revulsion.

She'd thought this could wait. She has other things to worry about. Snow and Charming have been spending more and more time together, and she can't have that. She can't let that insufferable girl have her happy ending.

But right now, the bulk of Regina's rage is directed at Emma Swan, and everything she has that she doesn't deserve.

Regina has to do something about that.

~(OUAT)~

"Thanks for the milkshake. It was awesome." Henry tells them, climbing out of the backseat of Emma's car.

"No problem." Henry hugs Emma around the waist, and she smiles a little sadly, feeling Graham's eyes on her. "I'll see you tomorrow, kid."

"Yeah, see ya." He pulls back, smiling, then waves at Graham. "See ya, Graham."

"Bye, bud."

Henry runs off toward the house, and Emma watches him go until Graham slips his hand into hers. "It's not easy, is it?"

The simple, soft understanding in his tone makes Emma's throat narrow, and she squeezes his hand once before pulling it away, raking her hand through her hair. "Uh, yeah. It's weird, because I've been spending more and more time with him but it's, um…it's only getting harder."

"I know." He rests a hand on her back, and they're still and silent for a long moment. The rumble of a car cuts into the quiet, and Regina pulls up beside them, rolling down her window and smirk.

"What a fortunate coincidence," she purrs. "I was just going to get in touch with you, sheriff. I want to discuss a few things about the robbery." Her eyes flick dismissively to Emma. "You won't be needed, deputy. You weren't very helpful in investigating the incident."

"Sorry, must've been too busy bleeding out on your carpet," Emma snaps.

"In any case, you can run along while Graham and I talk."

Bristling Emma steps between Graham and Regina, her stance almost protective. "I'll stay, thanks."

Regina shifts her gaze to Graham, eyes flashing meaningfully. "It's important I talk to you alone, sheriff. I could always try to _hunt_ you down some other time, but that seems so much more difficult."

The emphasis on the word hunt is a clear warning. Graham sees Emma tense, gearing up for an argument, but he places a soothing hand on her arm. "It's fine," he murmurs in a low voice.

Emma turns and gives him a pointed look, muttering, "She can talk to both of us."

"It's _okay_," he repeats, gently. "I swear." His eyes flick to Regina's for a moment, then back to Emma's. "We have to pick up Prince from the station anyway. Go get him, and come back for me." He raises his voice a little, narrowing a glare at Regina over Emma's shoulder. "I'm _sure_ the mayor will be done by then."

Emma sighs , shaking her head a little to silently indicate she doesn't like this. But she moves toward her car anyway, shifting her gaze from Graham to Regina. Her eyes flash a warning. "I'll be fifteen minutes."

Graham nods at her, trying to look reassuring; but the hairs on the back of his neck are already standing up, his entire body already on the defensive.

"It's sweet," Regina simpers insincerely as Emma drives off. "That she's protective." Regina steps closer to him. "Or maybe she's just worried we're going to go upstairs…have some fun for old time's sake…" Her fingernails come to rest against his cheek, and Graham recoils, physically shuddering.

"What do you want?" He grits out.

The smile drops from Regina's face, and she tosses her hair, voice clipped and business like. "Circumstances have changed. Your deputy she's…become a problem. And it's time to solve that problem."

A jolt of fear runs the length of Graham's body, but he doesn't immediately react. A muscle's pulsing in his jaw, and he has to swallow several times before he can speak. "How? She hasn't done anything. I haven't said-"

"I won't say I'm not being a bit petty," Regina interrupts conversationally. "But I have my reasons. In any case, it's time for me to…put Ms. Swan in her place."

Graham's fingers curl into tight fists, and he takes a step forward. "If you _touch_ her, I'll-"

"Oh, you'll do nothing," Regina cuts him off dismissively. "Trust me when I say, there is nothing you can do to me, Huntsman." Her lips curve slowly. "There is, however, something you can do _for_ me."

"_What_?" Graham's advancing on her slowly, his whole body shaking with anger.

Regina takes a step to match his, sneering, her face inches away. "You leave her."

Graham steps away, laughing humorlessly. "Not happening."

"Oh, I apologize. Perhaps I haven't presented your choices properly." Regina smiles. "Either you break her heart…or I stop it."

A breathless, incoherent sound of rage pulls itself from Graham's throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut as his vision bleeds into red.

After a few beats, Graham turns back, his words coming out as a snarl. "Why? What difference will that make to you?" When Regina doesn't answer, he yells, "That won't make her leave, if that's what you're thinking!"

"I don't have to tell you what I'm thinking," Regina replies calmly. "All I have to tell you, is what I need you to do. And that's to leave her. And if you don't…" She jabs a finger against his chest. "You of all people know what I'm capable of, Huntsman. You've seen the things I do. And know this…the only reason she wasn't dead on the spot is because _she wasn't the one I ordered dead_." She straightens. "Next time, she won't be so lucky."

Graham can't look at her face for another second. He turns away, abruptly, his mind racing, thoughts frantic, piling on top of each other.

_I could kill her…I should kill her…it's not like Snow…she deserves it…if she's going to kill Emma...have to make it look like an accident…I could do it…I could kill her…_

But he knows he can't, even as he thinks it. And more than anything, that infuriates him.

"You'll do it tomorrow," Regina instructs, smiling in satisfaction. "Tomorrow night."

Graham whirls, eyes blazing. "What is this? What are you really doing, giving me the…date and time of-"

"So I'm a bit of a control freak," Regina counters smoothly. "I'll give you _some_ leeway…give whatever reason you want. Just break it off."

"_Why_?" He clenches out, unable to stop himself.

Regina sighs impatiently. "What aren't you getting, Huntsman? Because if you don't do what I'm telling you to do, when I'm telling you to do it….I will kill her." They stare each other down, and finally Regina continues, "That why should be much more important to you than the other _why_ you want to know, but in any case…I want to hurt her. And I want her out of this town, away from my son."

"She won't leave Henry," he shoots back. "No matter what happens with me, she won't leave him-"

Regina gives him a pitying look. "Maybe you don't know her as well as you think you do, Huntsman. She's a runner. I am duly impressed that she's remained in Storybrooke as long as she has…it's probably a record. But the second things get a little difficult, I'm sure old habits will return." She smirks. "That's where you come in."

"You're wrong about her," Graham's speaking through clenched teeth, his jaw aching.

"I suppose we'll see," Regina says simply. She glances at her watch, eyes flicking to the road behind Graham. "She'll be back for you soon…I'll let you enjoy your last night together…but tomorrow night, you do what I've asked. I'll know if you fail to do so and, well…hopefully you've understood the consequences by now."

~(OUAT)~

Graham's sitting on the curb in front of Regina's house, his elbows on his knees, hands clutching his head, when the headlights of Emma's car illuminate the night.

She slows to a stop beside him, and Graham pulls himself to his feet.

Prince is curled in the passenger seat, and Graham lifts him easily as he slides into the seat, setting the kitten down in his lap, fingers nervously threading through the cat's fur. He can feel the weight of Emma's questioning gaze.

When he doesn't immediately offer anything, she prompts, "What'd she want that was so private?"

"Oh, nothing," he murmurs, slowly lifting his eyes. "Just playing mind games."

Emma squints at him, eyebrows constricting. "That doesn't tell me much…"

His eyes drop to his lap. "Just…hounding me about dropping the investigation."

"Hey…" Her fingers touch the nape of his neck, massaging gently until he looks up at her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He smiles with half his mouth, eyes softening as he watches her. "Sorry...just…I don't like dealing with her. I don't…" His voice catches. "I don't like her talking to me about you."

Immediately, Emma frowns. "Why, what'd she say?"

"Nothing, just…she makes comments about the shooting. You know. Regina comments."

"Regina _bullshit_," Emma corrects, rolling her eyes and putting the car in drive almost violently.

"Yeah." Graham's quiet as they pull away, driving down the road, as Regina's house disappears from view. His stomach is clenched into knots, his throat tight.

For all he isn't telling, all the truths he's keeping to himself…this is the first time he's actually lied to her since her first night shift, just before everything changed.

~(OUAT)~

They've reached a point where knocking is a formality; he's opening the door even as he taps his knuckles against it, poking his head in and calling, "Mary Margaret?"

"Come on in!" Her voice floats from one of the back bedrooms. David closes the door behind him and wandering inside, his eyes scanning the floor of the apartment.

Mary Margaret appears after a moment. "Hey." She smiles curiously at him. "What are you looking for?"

David finally lifts his gaze and smiles at her. "Prince," he answers, pulling a small, blue ball of yarn out of his jacket pocket. "This was in one of my drawers at the bed and breakfast…wanted to see if cats really like them."

Mary Margaret laughs a little. "Graham and Emma took him to the station with them today." She lifts an eyebrow, smirking. "They haven't come home yet."

"Oh." David pulls off his coat and tosses it on the couch, following Mary Margaret into the kitchen. It's habit now, this hot cocoa ritual, and she doesn't even have to ask if he wants cinnamon. "That's good. That they're gone."

She throws him a look over her shoulder, curious. "Why's that?"

"Because I want you to be the first to know." He reaches into the messenger bag slung across his shoulder, extracting several papers.

Mary Margaret turns around at the rustling, just in time to see David holding out the stack of papers, beaming like a kid presenting a perfect report card.

She stares down at his divorce papers, and David walks around the breakfast nook, joining her in the kitchen so nothing's between. "It's official. I'm…I'm not married." She looks up, wide eyed, and meets his gaze. David's smile stretches. "It's over."

Mary Margaret stares down at the papers again, the bold black of David's signature. Her smile is slow, but it matches his by the time she looks up again, and in the next second the papers are littering the kitchen floor.

They move forward at the same time, twining their arms around each other, kissing fervently as if it's a moment that's been building for years, rather than weeks.

It's far too soon when Mary Margaret pulls back, her breathing ragged, whole body trembling. "David, wait, is it… is it too fast?"

"Too fast?" He repeats breathlessly, gently brushing the hair falling across her forehead. "We've been waiting for weeks, we've been…"

"I know." Mary Margaret traces her hand absently against his chest. Her heart's racing; her whole body feels alive, pulsing. "I..I know, but David…you _just_ got divorced, is it…I don't know, is it insensitive, should we…should we be waiting-"

"Mary Margaret…" His hands cup her face, eyes holding hers. "My marriage has been over for a long time. Since before my accident, even. This isn't too soon, Mary Margaret. It's…it's a long time coming." He smiles, his blue eyes softening. "It's been coming since I first opened my eyes and saw you standing over me. You saved me that night, Mary Margaret and…you've been saving me just about every day since."

A tear rolls down her cheek, and David brushes it away with his thumb before leaning down to encase her lips in his. The urgency is gone; this kiss is gentle, their movements languid; as if, now, they have all the time in the world.

~(OUAT)~

"Wanna to stop by Granny's for a drink? Or are you ready to go home?"

Graham glances sideways at her, wondering if Emma even realizes what she's just said. It's so casual, the way she refers to the apartment as 'home', not just for her, but for both of them.

His throat narrows. When he goes too long without answering, Emma glances over again, a note of concern slipping into her voice, "Graham?"

"Sorry." He looks over, tries to smile. "Home's good."

"Kay…" She continues to drive, still shooting him uncertain looks. He stays quiet for the whole ride, and after a few minutes, Emma slips a CD into her car, music the only thing filling the silence.

When she pulls into her usual parking spot, Emma parks the car and unbuckles her seatbelt, but makes no move to get out. Instead she turns toward him. "Graham. What's wrong?" He doesn't look up and, sighing, Emma touches his cheek and turns his face toward her. "You're _not_ okay. Tell me what happened."

His eyes are pained as he holds her gaze. Emma's chest tightens; that lost, scared look in his eyes cutting her fresh. It's the hospital expression, the _I don't feel anything _expression, and it's one he's been taking care to hide from her ever since she woke up.

Then he says the last thing she expects, his voice soft and impossibly gentle. "I love you."

It's the second time in her life that anyone's said that to her, and the second time she's said it back. And she does say it back, without hesitation, even though loving Graham feels far more dangerous than loving Henry. Her voice catches in the middle of the whisper. "I love you, too."

He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly and tilting his forehead against hers. For a single moment, he lets himself be happy to hear her say those words, but soon that feeling crashes against overwhelming helplessness.

"You believe me…don't you?" He asks finally, the slightest tremor in his voice.

"Yes." It's against all Emma's instincts, believing that someone could love her. But she does believe Graham; it's there every time he looks at her.

He pulls her against him, and they hug the best they can across the console of the car. Graham buries his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of her until his breathing evens out. He pulls back and kisses her softly.

They only pull back when the kitten, still curled on Graham's thigh, meows uncomfortably. They both start laughing, even Graham, and some knot of fear unfurls in Emma's chest to see his smile.

She glances down at the kitten, and gently lifts him from Graham's lap. "Better get him inside…where he won't ruin the mood."

Graham laughs and nods. They meet at the curb, the kitten cradled in Emma's arm, and Graham slips his hand into hers as they walk inside.

~(OUAT)~

_A/N: So like I said, this was kind of a shorter, less eventful chapter…but it was getting obscenely long, so I had to make a cut. Because next chapter will be a big one. Should be up soon, since I already have part of it written. Anyway, thanks for reading as always, love to hear what you think._

_Also, after tonights episode, I am feeling a major need to fill in some Mary Margaret/Emma scenes they didn't show us, so look for a oneshot coming soon as well._


	9. Poison and Wine

_A/N:_ _Hey, guys! Sorry for another delay…I graduated Sunday, and everything was crazy trying to move and hang out with everyone 'one last time'. I'll be on the road next week, moving to California, but I'm going to try to get another update in before I leave. This is a big one, so hope it was worth the wait. Let me know what you think!_

Chapter Nine

_I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back  
>The less I give the more I get back<br>Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise  
>I don't have a choice but I still choose you<em>

_Oh I don't love you but I always will  
>Oh I don't love you but I always will<em>

As usual, Graham's awake before Emma the next morning. For the first unfocused moments of consciousness, his mind is pleasantly blank. But within a few moments, a sickening feeling of dread settles over him.

He turns gently on his side, looking down at Emma. Her hair's glowing golden from the sunlight streaming in through the curtain, her lips parted slightly, chest steadily rising and falling.

Graham's heart, the heart she'd gotten back, feels like it's too big for his chest. He stares intently down at her, like he's trying to memorize the image.

Finally, Graham drags himself from bed. He'll need coffee today; last night had been largely sleepless, his mind working endlessly for some way to handle Regina's threat.

He moves slowly out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, the smell of coffee hitting him. "Morning, Mary Margaret." His greeting's a reflex, and it takes him a second to realize she isn't alone. He smirks a little and adds, "David, morning."

They're both practically glowing with happiness, and Graham's teasing grin softens into a more genuine smile. He's glad for them.

"Morning, Graham."

"Coffee's on."

He helps himself to a mug, and is buttering bread for toast when Emma emerges, still bleary eyed, wearing one of Graham's shirts. Her eyes immediately snap into focus as she notices the extra occupant of the kitchen.

Her eyebrows shoot towards her hairline, and she meets Graham's gaze first, silently swapping surprise at the suddenness of this development, then her eyes snap to Mary Margaret's, with a very pointed look, before she finally smirks and, words dripping with significance, says, "Morning, guys."

Mary Margaret and David both flush a little, murmuring far too casual greetings in reply.

Emma grins at Graham, eyes glinting with amusement. Emma reaches up for the cabinet, grabbing her customary cinnamon Poptart, and Graham comes up behind her, resting his hands lightly on her waist, craning his neck to kiss her cheek and murmuring softly, "Morning, you."

He feels her smile even before she turns around. "Morning." She glances at Mary Margaret and David, then arches an eyebrow at him, teasingly. "What's this about? You getting competitive? Wanna be the cutest couple in the kitchen?"

Graham smiles in spite of himself. Looking at her smile, he can almost forget Regina's threat, her instructions, what he's supposed to do tonight. "Maybe."

Emma lifts a corner of her mouth, eyes dancing. She drops a feather light kiss on his lips, then whispers, "I think we're winning."

He laughs as Emma spins on her heel. "I gotta get dressed." She nudges Mary Margaret's arm with her knuckles as she walks by, giving her roommate a pointed look and mouthing _we'll talk later _before heading into her bedroom.

~(OUAT)~

Emma turns to close her bedroom door and immediately pulls up short; David's hurrying behind her. "Emma?"

She arches an eyebrow, surprised he's followed her. "Yeah?"

"I just…" He leans in the doorway, giving her an almost shy smile. "I wanted you to know…I'm divorced. Everything went through, I'm…I'm not complicated anymore."

Emma smirks. "I know."

"You do?"

Her face softens a little, smile genuine. "Yeah. I know you guys have been waiting, that you wanted to do it right, so…I figured."

"Oh." David's face relaxes into a relieved smile. "I just…wanted you to know."

"Thank you."

~(OUAT)~

Emma's talking in a low, amused voice as they slip out of the apartment. "…actually think it's cute that he still, like, wants my approval, and I _really_ can't wait to hear how that happened. Mary Margaret better be prepared to spill details, because I can't even imagine David being-"

Graham throws her a look and cuts her off, "Do we have to talk about this?"

She grins at him over her shoulder, opening the door of the building and stepping onto the sidewalk. "May as well, we'll be sharing a wall soon…" Her smile fades; Graham's pulled up short, staring past her, and Emma turns, following his gaze to see Regina's car, parked across the street. "What's that about?"

"Who knows?" Graham murmurs, his eyes still on the car, expression etched with dread.

Emma stares up at him, worry beginning to flutter in her chest. "Hey…" Finally, he looks away from the car and meets Emma's eyes. "You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"

Graham's chest constricts with guilt, but he nods. "Yeah. I would."

"She's just trying to get to us," Emma tells him, cutting a blazing glare across the street and tucking the hand not holding Prince against her shoulder into the crook of Graham's elbow, gently tugging him forward. "Let's go."

~(OUAT)~

Regina rolls her eyes as she watches Emma Swan pull the Huntsman away. There's a cat in her other hand; he must like that…so much like an animal himself.

Her lips curl into a sneer as she thinks about tonight. The look on his face when he spotted her…it's working. He's scared. He doesn't know how to defy her.

Regina watches as Emma's car pulls away, basking in the knowledge that the deputy has no idea what's coming.

The mayor is about to pull away herself when the door the apartment building opens again.

Immediately, the smile falls from Regina's face.

It's _her_.

There's a huge smile on Snow's face, and her fingers are laced with _his_, both of them utterly, and blissfully happy.

It simply isn't fair. Snow doesn't deserve happiness.

Regina will have to do something about that, too.

~(OUAT)~

"I'm bored," Emma announces, abruptly dropping her feet and stopping her chair from spinning. She tilts her head back at Graham, shooting him a faux pouty look. "Can we go home yet?"

Graham's attempt to smile wilts almost immediately. It's dark outside, and his stomach's been in knots for the past two hours. He squints outside the windows of the sheriff's office, wondering if Regina's car is outside, if she's watching them.

"Graham?"

He turns but avoids her eyes; he lifts the kitten from her lap so he has an excuse to walk across the room. "You're making Prince dizzy," he mutters, gently setting the kitten down in the cardboard box set up in the corner.

Graham stays knelt on the floor, his fingers stroking the soft orange fur of the kitten, heart hammering in his chest. Finally, he sets his jaw and straightens up, turning to look at Emma. "I need to tell you something."

Emma doesn't seem surprised. She stands up from the desk chair, crossing her arms in front of her chest, eyes squinting as she scrutinizes him. "Alright…"

It's a physical effort to hold her gaze. "Regina…she wants…she wants us to stay away from each other. To break up."

Without a beat of hesitation, Emma replies, "Yeah, I'm sure she does. Oh, well."

"Em…" His voice falters, and in the pause that follows, Graham watches he way the light slowly extinguishes from her eyes, real fear settling. "She told me to…leave you. And I think…we have to make her think I listened."

For a long moment, Emma just stares at him. Then, she gives a harsh, incredulous laugh. "I'm sorry you…are you breaking up with me?"

"No, God no," He assures her hurriedly, his eyes wide. "Just…we have to make her think I did."

Emma's giving him an incredulous look. "Because _Regina told you to_? Why the hell do you care what Regina says?"

"Emma, she…she threatened you! She said she'd kill you, alright?"

Slowly, the disbelief fades from Emma's face as she observes the genuine terror in Graham's expression. "Graham…" She walks closer to him, putting her hands firmly on his shoulders and meeting his eyes. "Regina just talks. She's pissed off that you finally stood up to her, so she needs to think she still has some sort of control…but I'm not afraid of her."

"But you _should_ be!" He bursts out, expression pained. "Em, you don't get it, you don't understand how dangerous she is."

The look of worry on Emma's face tugs at Graham's chest, shame burning. She slowly lifts her hands from his shoulders, cupping the nape of his neck and asking, "_What_ has she done to make you so afraid of her?"

"She…" He swallows, hesitating. Finally, in a low voice, he admits, "She almost killed you once already."

"What are you talking about?"

"The robbery. _She_ did it." Each syllable vibrates with anger, and Graham's gaze is intense on Emma's. "She set it up. The burglar, the gun, all of it."

Emma's eyebrows knit together. "Wait…what? Why do you think that?"

"She told me. She confessed."

"She…she really…?" Emma's face tightens as she slowly processes what he's saying. "Then…why aren't we arresting her?" Then, before he can answer, "When did she admit it? Last night?"

"No." The word is barely a breath, but he can't bring himself to lie to her anymore. "No, she told me right after. When they took you away in the ambulance."

Emma's eyes flash with accusation, and she takes a physical step back. "You didn't tell me."

"I know, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about it, when you were in the hospital, everything was too…" He closes his eyes, unwelcome memories assaulting him, all that waiting, the mind numbing terror. "I was only thinking about you." His eyes fly open. "I can't go through that again, Em, I _can't_. If she's gonna hurt you-"

"Graham, hey…" She steps closer again, touching his chest, eyes warm with sympathy. "Nothing is going to happen to me. Alright? If she set up that robbery, then that's it. We got her, we'll arrest her-"

"We don't have anything to arrest her on…she admitted it once, off the record, but she won't do it again, she'll just deny it."

"Then we'll find proof," Emma tells him a calm, measured voice.

"There isn't going to be any proof," Graham replies quietly. "Trust me, Emma, we won't be able to find anything on her. But I know she did it. And I know what she's capable of. You have to believe me on this, Emma, she said she'd kill you if I didn't break your heart so…we _have_ to convince her I did it."

Emma gives him a long, searching look. The silence seems to last forever, Graham staring at her with a pleading expression.

Finally, she speaks, "No."

He blinks at her. "No?"

"No." Emma shakes her head a little. "Graham, you're giving Regina too much credit. I'm not letting her do this. If you're right, and she set up that robbery…she's a coward, Graham. Hiring someone else to take a shot at _you_…" Her eyes harden with anger, and only then does Graham remember that Emma knows the original target was him. She repeats, "Regina's a coward, and we can fight her. We'll find some evidence. We'll prove what she did."

He's shaking his head emphatically before he even finishes speaking. "No, we won't, we can't-"

A frustrated sound curls out of Emma's throat. "_Why_ are you so sure? _Why_ do you think she's so damn powerful?"

"Because she is!" He's yelling now, fueled by panic and fear. "She's more powerful than you know, Emma-"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means Henry's right about the curse!"

The silence that follows Graham's accidental admission is deafening. Emma's face freezes, protests dying in her throat as she stares at him in shock that slowly fades into panic.

Graham's chest is heaving, and the look of terror on her face is scaring him. "Emma-"

"Graham…" Her voice is shaking. "Graham, c'mon, think about what you're saying." She sets her jaw, voice catching. "The last time you started talking about this you were…you were feverish, and then your, your heart…"

Comprehension dawns on Grahams' face then, the reason for her panic suddenly clear. "Em, I'm not sick." He draws a breath; he hadn't intended to tell her this, but now he can't go back. "I know how this sounds. I do. But Henry's been right all along. The curse, it's real, Regina did it, she's…she's the Evil Queen."

"Graham, you're scaring me…" She reaches up, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead.

Graham catches her hand in his. "Emma, it's the truth. The first time we kissed, I started to remember, and that first night, after I ended it Regina…we kissed, and it all came back to me. " He can see it in her eyes, the memory of his _I remember_, his gratitude. "I was a huntsman, and the Queen, she stole my heart because I didn't kill Snow White-"

"Graham, listen to what you're saying," Emma protests, her voice weak.

"Emma, I _need_ you to believe me."

"How _can_ I?" She bursts out, voice thick. "You're talking about _magic_ and _curses_ and… freaking Snow White!" Emma steps away from him, running shaking hands through her hair. "Graham, just…what did Regina say? Did she actually convince you-"

"This wasn't her." His voice is gentle again, trying to assuage her fears. "It was you, Em. You made me remember. Because…Henry's been right all along. You _are_ the savior."

Emma gives him a helpless look. "Graham, I told you. I _can't_ save anyone." Her voice cracks. "I am not a savior. And there's no curse. And if you really believe that-"

"You think I'm lying?" He asks softly, hurt threaded through his tone even as he reminds himself that he expected this, that it's a logical reaction.

"_No_, I think something is really, really _wrong_." Emma's on the brink of tears, and she grits her teeth, fighting them.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. And I'm telling the truth, Em." His voice is gentle, eyes soft, and Emma turns abruptly, her back to him,.

Graham keeps talking, his voice desperate. "Emma. Please. You may not want to believe it, but…in a way, it's okay. Mary Margaret and David, theyr'e really Snow White and Prince James, they're your parents. And look, look at how close you guys are. You…you always wondered, you said, why your parents would pick a name for you, then just abandon you, but they didn't, Em, they wanted to protect you, to save you from the curse. They loved you so much, and even now, they don't even know you're their daughter and they still love you. Henry's been right all along, you're-"

"_Stop it_." Emma whirls around, tears streaming down her cheeks, voice thick with them. "Just shut up!" Graham's chest constricts at the anguished expression on Emma's face. "When Henry says it, he's trying to help, but from you…it's just _mean_, Graham." A sob tears out of her. "I don't have parents, okay? Whoever they were, they didn't give a damn about me. It's not some fucking fairy tale, and you….if you want to leave me, just say so, Graham…"

"I, I don't-"

"…you don't have to blame Regina or a curse or…whatever else."

She's putting space in between them, backing away, and Graham tries to close the gap. "Emma, I don't want that, I swear, I love you-"

"_Stop_." Emma presses the heels of her hands against her eyes, her breathing ragged, mind spinning. "I can't…I can't listen to this stuff, I, I gotta go…" The keys shake in her hands, and she bolts toward the door, Graham hurrying behind her, the pitch of his voice climbing.

"Em, please don't-"

"I can't do this right now-"

Then she's closing the door, separating the two of them, and hurrying across the street, swiping a sleeve under her eyes as she does.

Graham rests his forehead against the glass, throat tightening. He'd handled that all wrong; even if bringing up the curse had been unavoidable, he shouldn't have pushed the parents angle, not so soon.

Somehow, there's no comfort in the fact that, if Regina's still watching them, Emma's exit definitely looked as if he'd successfully hurt her. Just like Regina wanted.

~(OUAT)~

It's only by chance that she glances out the window to the apartment and sees him, and even then it takes a moment to make out his form in the darkness. Mary Margaret pulls her coat on and hurries downstairs.

"David, c'mon, stop it,…"

He looks up from her car, where he's furiously scrubbing at the word TRAMP, angry and red against her car windows. "I've almost got it."

"Why bother?" Her voice is hollow, defeated. "They'll just paint it again tomorrow."

David's shoulders slump, and he shoots her a helpless look. "I'm so sorry."

The day had started out so perfectly. They've been so close, for weeks now, but everything was finally, truly _right_.

Until Kathryn Nolan had shown up at school, slapped Mary Margaret and accused her of breaking up her marriage, and everything fell apart again.

By the time the last bell at school rang, it seemed like the whole town was discussing the exact start date of her and David's relationship, and her role in his and Kathryn's divorce.

"It's not your fault. " She tells him now, having moved inside the apartment from the street, both sitting on the couch. "We just…rushed things, maybe."

"No, we didn't," he protests immediately. "I talked to Kathryn. I confronted her, told her she can't take it out on you…she got some bad information. Regina, she showed her photos, claimed they were dated from before you even moved out-"

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters. You didn't do anything wrong, Mary Margaret, neither of us did…nothing's changed."

She lowers her eyes. "The whole town thinks…"

He takes her hand. "It doesn't matter what they think."

Mary Margaret sighs, her chest tightening, the burn of humiliation from today far too fresh. "David, I just…I worry. I worry that it's still too complicated, that it's…not supposed to be this hard." Before he can protest, she adds, "I just…I just look at Emma and Graham, and it's so simple. They're so sure, and I want that."

As if on cue, the door to the apartment swings open, and Emma storms inside, her cheeks flushed and tear streaked. She pulls up short, staring; the sight of the two of them is apparently too much for her. "_Really?"_, she yells, before immediately going into her room and slamming the door.

David's turn between concern and amusement at the comic's timing of the moment. He smirks slightly at Mary Margaret. "You were saying?"

She's staring after her roommate with concern, and only shakes her head a little at his comment. "You'd better go…"

"Yeah, okay. Sorry."

They both stand, and David hesitates, eyes finding hers. "Mary Margaret, I…I never meant for any of this to…" He stops; sighs. "I hate that you're the one getting hurt."

"I know." She gives his arm a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay. Come by tomorrow?"

Something unclenches in his stomach, and David sighs with relief. "I will." His eyes flick toward Emma's room. "Take care of her."

~(OUAT)~

"Emma?" Mary Margaret knocks lightly on the door. "Emma, what happened?" No answer; Mary Margaret twists the doorknob and finds it locked. She knocks again. "Emma, come on, open up, tell me what's wrong."

Then, muffled and angry, "Go _away_, stop acting like my mother."

Mary Margaret pauses, fist still raised to knock, then slowly lowers her hand. She waits.

Twenty seconds later, the door swings open, and Emma's grimacing at her, mumbling, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." It's something that breaks her heart about Emma, the fear in her eyes every time she apologizes for something, as if she's certain that the apology won't be accepted, that she's screwed up for good.

Emma turns and goes back to her bed, leaving the door open, which Mary Margaret takes as an invitation to follow. "What happened?"

Groaning, Emma falls back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Graham and I had a fight."

Mary Margaret sits on the corner of the bed, pulling a sympathetic expression as she looks down at Emma. "Well, those happen to everybody. "

"I just…I don't think I handled it very well." Her voice falters, and Emma squeezes her eyes shut.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Emma mutters, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. For some reason, she always prefers not to talk about the curse with Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret pats her leg. "You two will be alright. Couples fight. Just…get some space tonight, and go into the station tomorrow and work it out."

"Yeah. You're right." Emma glances over at Mary Margaret, smiling tiredly. "Thanks." Emma's smile fades. "Listen, I…there was some talk going around today…"

"About me and David?" Emma nods reluctantly. "I know. Believe me. Kathryn Nolan heard it, too…she showed up at the school."

"She _what_?" Emma sits up, glad for the momentary distraction. "What did she say?"

"Mainly just…accused me of stealing her husband. There wasn't a lot of talk after the slap."

"She _hit_ you?" Emma repeats incredulously. Off Mary Margaret's nod, Emma stands from the bed, making a beeline for the door of the apartment.

"Whoa, what are you doing?"

"Going to see Kathryn-"

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes, hurrying after Emma and tugging on her arm. "Okay, okay…get off the white horse. David already talked to her."

Emma turns, arching an eyebrow. "And?"

"And…it's okay. She thought we were having an affair, I don't…I don't know." Mary Margaret laughs humorlessly. "Now it's just the rest of the town who thinks so."

Emma sighs. "I'm sorry….just ignore them. You and David, you'll be fine."

"So will you and Graham," Mary Margaret reminds her again. "I know it."

~(OUAT)~

She barely sleeps that night. Her mind is cycling, trying to process everything Graham said, every mistake she made in her reaction.

She can't come up with a good reason for him talking so much about the curse. But whatever it is, he truly believes it, and she needs to find out why. She needs to help him.

And she needs to convince him that they can handle Regina.

The first thing she hears as she enters the station the next morning is the high pitched, persistent mewing of Prince from his cardboard box in the corner. Immediately, Emma's stomach tightens with nerves; the kittens presence means Graham's already here.

She glances around the office. Graham's jacket is hanging on the hook by the door. His badge and his gun, for some reason, are lying on his desk. But he doesn't seem to be there.

"Graham?" she calls tentatively. "Graham, you here?"

A quick loop around the office proves that he isn't. Prince is mewing more loudly, scratching at his box, and Emma distractedly fills his tiny saucer with the milk they keep in the mini fridge.

She grabs her cell phone and dials his number.

Ten rings and no answer.

Emma looks outside; the squad car's parked in its usual spot.

She calls again. Nothing.

Real panic is threatening her now.

She gives him twenty minutes before she lets the panic engulf her, hating the thought that he's avoiding her, that he's angry enough for that, that she may have finally screwed this up.

~(OUAT)~

It's early enough that there's still a large crowd eating breakfast at Granny's, but Emma bypasses the line at the counter, ignoring protests of people she's blowing past.

"Ruby." She leans against the counter, voice sharp enough that the waitress immediately turns. "Has Graham been in this morning?"

"Haven't seen him today." Ruby pauses, studying Emma's face. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just…don't know where he is…" Emma's eyes sweep the diner in vain, studying every seat in the place.

David Nolan's sitting at the end of the counter, but it's Regina, sitting in a booth by the door, and smirking at Emma, that gets her attention.

She's never once seen the mayor eating in the diner, and her stomach lurches with a fear she doesn't want to examine. Emma turns away from Regina, finding David looking at her in concern.

"Have you seen Graham today?" she asks him quietly.

"No, I haven't…" He's looking at her closely. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine…his stuff's already at the station, so he's already been there today, I just…I just don't know where he went."

"Maybe he just got an early call for something?"

"The squad car's still parked…" Emma's voice trails off as David's eyes snap behind her shoulder. She follows his gaze.

Regina's approaching, eyes dancing with uncontained victory. "Miss Swan," she purrs, voice louder than necessary; the hum of conversation in the diner is quickly dying, the patrons shifting their gazes toward the mayor and deputy sheriff. "Glad I caught you. Graham gave me a message for you."

Emma's whole body stiffens. She forces out a scoffing sound, rolling her eyes at Regina and walking past her, muttering, "Yeah, sure he did."

Regina turns smoothly, watching Emma's retreat, voice casual as she adds, "I think you'll want to hear this…and there's no use going back to the station, you won't find him there."

Emma pulls up short, breathing going shallow, her whole body pulsing with anger and fear. Slowly, she turns, narrowing her gaze at the mayor. "Fine. Go ahead. Whatever your game is just tell me, but make it fast, I'm in a hurry."

The whole diner is silent now, everyone watching them. Regina tosses her hair, voice loud, playing to her audience. "Graham resigned. Last night." A hushed murmur sweeps through the diner, but Emma doesn't react. "I don't know what you did to him, Miss Swan, but he seemed to be in quite the hurry. Resignation was immediate, and I believe he intended to leave town right away."

"Bullshit," Emma retorts before she can stop herself. "He wouldn't just leave…he's already been at the station this morning."

"Dropping off his badge and gun, I presume," Regina replies smoothly. "That's what he told me he'd do, in any case."

Emma closes her eyes briefly; the room is spinning, and she's struggling to think. "No…he wouldn't…"

Suddenly David's beside her, hand firm on her shoulder, his gaze on Regina. "You're lying. Graham wouldn't leave town without telling Emma."

There's a murmur of assent, and Regina's eyes flick from David's back to Emma's. "Oh, really? How did you two leave things last night, Miss Swan? He seemed very upset. Something about a fight?"

For half a second, Emma almost believes her. She thinks of Graham, saying they had to make it seem like he left her, so scared for her. Would he really do this to her, would he really thinking leaving, without warning her at all, was the best way to keep her safe?

Then, her face hardens. "_No_. Even if he did leave…he wouldn't leave the message with _you_." Regina's sneer doesn't falter. The diner is silent. Al at once, something inside Emma snaps. "_What did you do to him?" _she demands, her voice a snarl as she rushes toward Regina, seizing the front of her blazer.

"Emma…" David's voice is quiet, and he gently steps between the two women. "Emma, it's okay. Don't listen to her, she's lying…" He throws a glare at Regina, eyes flashing a warning. He doesn't move his glare from the mayor's face as he gently cups Emma's shoulder, guiding her out. "C'mon, let's go."

Emma feels sick and shaky, so she allows herself to be led out of the diner, allows David to keep his hand on her back the walk down the street to the station.

Inside, her hands tremble as she dials her cell phone. The dial tone rings incessantly in her ear, barely audible words spilling from her lips without her realizing it. "Pick up, pick up, pick up…." She inhales sharply, unsteadily. "Graham…"

He still doesn't have a damn voicemail.

She hangs up after fifteen rings, raking her hands through her hair and squeezing her eyes shut, trying to think.

David watches her, his worry palpable. "You said he came by here already?"

"Yeah, he had to, his stuff's all here…" Her words are too loud, and Emma's aware she sounds borderline hysterical. "His j-jacket and the cat…" Suddenly, her throat locks around her words, the color draining for her face.

"What?" David steps forward, instinctually gripping her arm with his hand; she looks unsteady on her feet. "What is it?"

"He hasn't been here this morning, he…he never left last night," Emma says in a small, dazed voice. "Prince, he was…he was hungry when I got here, and his jacket, that's…that's where it was…he never made it home, she got to him after I left…" Emma's face crumples slowly, eyes clouding with such intense grief that David's chest constricts painfully.

She's remembering the revelation that Regina set up the robbery at her house, that she hired someone to shoot at them. To shoot at _Graham_. She'd wanted him dead.

A sob rips out of her, and the tears slide out before she even senses their threat. Her voice is whimper by the time she forces out, "Regina, she took him, she…I think she killed him…." At the last words, her voice falls to pieces.

She was right here, in the sheriff's station, the first time she almost lost Graham. And it is here that she realizes she has lost him again.

Her body folds, and in seconds she's a small, keening ball on the floor, her whole body shuddering, and when David's strong arms go around her, it feels like they're the only thing keeping her from breaking apart.

~(OUAT)~

He opens his eyes to darkness.

It's cold. His body is sluggish, movements clumsy, but slowly, painfully, he stands, blindly holding out his hand, feeling the space. He makes it to a stone wall and slowly traces the perimeter. It's not big. Three stone walls. When he gets to the fourth, he finds bars.

A growl starts low in the back of his throat. When it escapes, it's the only sound, echoing in the room.

"_REGINA!" _The yell echoes around him, and Graham gives an angry yell of frustration. "_REGINA! ANSWER ME!" _He's angry at the queen, he's angry at himself for behaving just like she knew he would, for falling for her trap.

For leaving Emma behind, just like everyone else.

So he screams. He screams until his throat feels like it's tearing open, long after it becomes clear there's no one there to hear him.


	10. Breathe Again

_A/N: Hey, gang. Sorry it's been forever. I was driving across the country, then I was getting settled in at LA, then I was starting work, and things have been crazy and in transition. But. This chapter's pretty long, so hopefully it was worth the wait. And I'll try to get stuff up more quickly from now on._

Chapter Eleven

_Open up next to you and my secrets become your truth_

_And the distance between that was sheltering me comes in full view_

_Hang my head, break my heart built from all I have torn apart_

_And my burden to bear is a love I can't carry anymore_

_All I have, all I need, he's the air I would kill to breathe_

_Holds my love in his hands, still I'm searching for something_

_Out of breath, I am left hoping someday I'll breathe again_

Emma's on her knees on the floor of the sheriff's station, body doubled over as she curls into herself. One hand is clenched tight around the sleeve of David's jacket.

Her roommate's boyfriend's hands are rubbing soothing, gentle circles up and down her arms, and he hasn't faltered at the tears soaking through on his shoulder. For all David's fumbling awkwardness and uncertainty with her in the past, he is apparently steady and unwavering during a crisis.

"Ssssshh, it's okay….it's gonna be okay. I gotcha, you're alright…"

Something about the warm, slow cadence of his voice keeps Emma precariously tethered to sanity. Slowly, the sobs wracking her body dwindle enough for words to slip out.

"He's dead," Emma chokes out, muffled against his shoulder. "Graham's dead, David, he's dead, he's dead…"

"Emma…" David's voice is firmer now, and he gently loosens his hold on Emma to rest his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Emma." She looks up at him, her face crumpled, tears streaming. David's heart clenches, unsettled and oddly pained to see the normally strong woman come undone with grief and fear. "Hey…it's okay." Without thinking about what he's doing, David brushes his thumb at her tears, eyes soft on her hers. "We don't know what's going on. Regina's just trying to get to you, I'm sure…I'm sure Graham's okay, I'm sure there's an explanation."

Emma shakes her head hard, sucking in slow deliberate breaths. She covers her face with her hands for a long time, and when she finally uncovers it, her jaw is clenched, face muscles tightened. "No, Graham, he…he told me something, he…" Emma squeezes her eyes shut, throat narrowing, and with great effort she continues, "He said Regina admitted to, to setting up the robbery. The shooting, she did it."

David's whole body stiffens, a fire igniting in his eyes, anger transforming his face. "Regina had you shot?"

Oblivious to his rage, Emma closes her eyes, gritting out, "The gun was aimed at _him_. She wanted…she wanted to kill Graham and now…" Her voice catches. "Now he's gone."

"Okay…" David murmurs softly, mind racing as he processes. "Okay…" His eyes meet Emma's, and immediately he focuses. "I know this looks bad. And I know you're scared. But it hasn't been very long, he could still be fine." Emma's face tightens, and she opens her mouth on the verge of protest, so David continues quickly, "But even if he's not…you don't know that he's dead. Regina made up the lie, she's trying to make it look like he left for a reason. We don't know what her plan. We _don't know_ that she killed him." He brushes away a strand of hair sticking to Emma's tear streaked cheek, his voice gentle, "So let's slow down, alright?"

Slowly, it feels like the fist squeezing her heart loosens slightly. Emma's eyes meet David's, and out of nowhere Graham's voice is in her head.

_Mary Margaret and David, they're really Snow White and Prince James, they're your parents…They loved you so much, and even now, they don't even know you're their daughter and they still love you._

She hasn't thought of the curse since realizing Graham was missing this morning. And with David's eyes soft and concerned on her face, for one dizzying moment, she wonders.

But on the heels of that thought, she remembers running out, leaving him alone, and a sob rounds in her throat.

Right now, it doesn't matter. Whatever Graham believed, whatever was scaring him…it's because of Regina. And now, all Emma cares about is finding him.

So slowly, she nods. And she braces her palm on the corner of the desk to pull herself up, and she even lets David help her, his hand bracing the crook of her elbow until they're both standing.

Emma feels weak and lightheaded, her throat and chest aching from crying. For a moment, she looks wildly around the station, searching in vain for some hint of what to do next.

"What do you need me to do?" David asks in a low voice. Emma doesn't give any indication of hearing him; her eyes are fixed on the coat rack, where Graham's jacket is hanging just as it was the previous night. "Emma. I'm going to help you find him. Okay? Mary Margaret and I, we're both gonna help you."

At that, she drags her gaze from Graham's jacket and nods, dazedly repeating, "Mary Margaret…" Emma closes her eyes, and when she opens them, there's a determined, focused look on her face. "We need to go to the school."

~(OUAT)~

"…a fantastic presentation on rabbits, Grace." Mary Margaret smiles warmly at her student before her gaze flicked down to the list of presentations. "And now, Jason is going to tell us all about…giraffes…" She glances up at the soft creak of her classroom door.

David and Emma are standing in the doorway, and immediately Mary Margaret's chest constricts. David's face is tense and somber, but Emma's is far more alarming. She's obviously been crying, and even now looks on the edge of a complete breakdown.

"Um…" Mary Margaret glances back at the students, her eyes automatically going to Henry, who's also staring at the doorway, pale and confused. "Actually, let's take a few minutes…I want all of you to write down five things you've learned about animals so far…"

A hum of chatter rises from the students and Mary Margaret's face melts into worry as she hurries to the door.

David and Emma back into the hall, and Mary Margaret leans against the doorway, eyes darting between them. "What's wrong?"

Emma's throat locks up, so David's the one who says it. "Graham's missing."

Mary Margaret's eyes widen. "M-missing, wha…what does that mean?"

"He's gone…" Emma forces out, her voice hollow and unrecognizable. "And Regina…."

In a rushed, low voice, David explains. "Regina says he resigned and moved in the middle of the night." Mary Margaret opens her mouth, and he cuts her off, "Which we know is ridiculous. Emma says he never left the station last night and apparently…" David glances at Emma, and instinctively rests a hand on her back as he finishes, "…apparently Regina told Graham that she set up the robbery at her house. She arranged the shooting, so Emma thinks…"

"She did something to him, Mary Margaret." One look of tenderness from her best friend cuts Emma to the quick, and her voice is suddenly trembling and small. "She took him or, or she killed…"

"Oh, Emma…"

"What's wrong?"

All three adults look down; Henry's staring anxiously up at his mother.

Mary Margaret puts a hand on his shoulder. "Henry, honey, go back to your seat…"

"No," Emma counters immediately. "No, I need to talk to him, that's why we came…" Purpose temporarily chases away the grief in her eyes as she kneels down to meet her son's gaze. "Henry. What time did Regina get home last night?"

"Why, what happened?" Henry demands, the pitch of his voice climbing, fear only increasing now that he can see Emma's face up close.

"Henry, this is really important." Emma takes her sons hands in hers, looking beseechingly at the boy. "Please."

"I…I don't know exactly." There's a crack in Emma's determined demeanor, and Henry closes his eyes, willing himself to think. "She doesn't let me watch TV when she's home, and there was a movie coming on at eight I wanted to see and I couldn't, so she was home before eight."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah." Henry nods confidently. "She got home right before."

"Okay." Emma nods for too long, eyes faraway. "Okay. Thanks, kid."

"Emma, what's going on?" Henry asks in a small, frightened voice, and for the first time the fire in Emma's eyes dims. A fresh wave of tears rush to her eyes as she stared at Henry's anxious expression, thinking of how much he loves Graham, how much she's loved watching the two of them become close.

"We don't know where Graham is," Emma tells him quietly, voice catching. "But I swear, I'm going to find him."

She squeezes his hand, then quickly stands and turns, walking away from all three of them.

His expression panicked, Henry tilts his head back, looking questioningly at Mary Margaret and David.

Mary Margaret touches his shoulder, her voice weak as she murmurs, "It's okay, Henry, go and sit down."

"But-"

"Please. I'll be back in a minute."

Reluctantly, Henry drifts back into the classroom, and Mary Margaret turns to David, blindsided. "Is this…is this as bad as she thinks?"

David casts a glance over his shoulder; Emma's already out of sight. "I don't…he hasn't been gone very long. But Regina saying he left, and…and if what Emma said about the robbery is true…" He grimaces. "Yeah, it could be as bad as she thinks."

"Oh, God…" Mary Margaret closes her eyes, and David's fingers slip between hers. After a moment, she glances back at her students, who, with the exception of Henry, are starting to chat among themselves. "I have to…"

"It's okay," David says gently. "I should…" He glances again in the direction Emma disappeared.

"Okay, just…take care of her?"

He half smiles, but it doesn't dissolve the worry in his eyes. "Of course."

David kisses her cheek, squeezing her fingers one more time before hurrying off to find Emma.

~(OUAT)~

She's outside the school, pacing impatiently by David's car, her cell phone pressed to her ear, when he exits the school building.

Emma's jaw is set, lips pressed tightly together as she listens. As David approaches, Emma hangs up the phone and redials, listening again. David's chest constricts, realizing that in spite of everything, she's still hoping Graham will answer.

When she sees him, Emma quickly hangs up the phone. "She got home before eight. That's barely an hour after I left the station, so…so she didn't have a lot of time. That means she didn't leave Storybrooke, it means if he's," Emma's voice falters. "If he's alive, he has to be in Storybrooke, so I can find him-"

"Okay." David's voice is gentle, and he touches her arm lightly to slow her incessant pacing. "Slow down. What do we do next?"

"We…we should go to his place." Emma pauses, eyes intense, darting around, landing on nothing. "And Regina's."

"You want to break into-"

"Yes. We need to figure out where she could be keeping him, and how she…" Her face tightens. "What she did to him at the station." Terror floods Emma's expression; David can practically see the possibilities cycling through her mind, and he quickly unlocks the car, opening the passenger door and motioning her to get in.

"So let's go."

Emma ducks into the car, and as soon as David's sitting beside her, Emma continues talking, "I'll put a trace on his cell phone, and we can pull the phone records for the station. I need to talk to someone, figure out when she left her office…"

David drives, and he lets Emma talk, making plans. She doesn't fall silent for a second, afraid that the moment she stops talking will be the moment the terror swallows her whole.

~(OUAT)~

His apartment is cleared out. It was hastily done. Emma's eyes are accusing on Mr. Gold's as he watches them, expression mild. He says he didn't see Graham, claims that the sheriff sent word through Regina.

There's nothing useful, no fingerprints or other evidence that Regina was the one to clear out Graham's apartment. His cell phone's been turned off, so there's no signal to trace.

When school lets out, Mary Margaret joins them, along with an insistent Henry.

They talk to Ruby. Archie. Anyone else with businesses or homes near the station or Regina's office. No one saw anything.

Emma doesn't slow down. She doesn't let them stop for a moment, afraid of what will happen when there's nothing left to do.

Henry goes to his house first, checking to make sure it's clear. Mary Margaret looks like she might protest, but one look at Emma's face stops her, so the three of them poke around Regina's garage and storage spaces without being sure what they're looking for, only that they don't find it.

~(OUAT)~

"…maybe she has some sort of property, something we don't know about. She could be holding him there."

Mary Margaret and David exchange a look. David pulls the apartment door shut behind them, while Mary Margaret follows her roommate, her voice soothing. "Emma."

Emma paces. "I, I don't really know why she would be holding him, but…who the hell knows why Regina does anything…"

"Emma."

"-the point is we need to find somewhere she has access to-"

"_Emma_." Mary Margaret takes a hold of Emma's arms, stepping in front of her. "Sit down. Take a breath."

Emma shakes her head, trying to pull away from Mary Margaret's grip. "No, I can't, I need to-"

"_You_ need to eat something," Mary Margaret cuts her off firmly, briefly meeting David's eyes. He nods, and heads to the kitchen. "And you need rest. There's nothing you can do for Graham right this second, alright?"

Emma visibly wilts, and Mary Margaret can almost feel the fight drain out of her as she allows herself to be guided to the couch.

For the first time all day, Emma shuts down. She clamps her lips shut, wraps her arms around her torso and sits hunched on the couch, trying not to think.

Mary Margaret is beside her on the couch. She rubs Emma's back. David makes sandwiches in the kitchen. Prince darts around his ankles.

Tears are clawing at Emma's throat. They've been threatening her all day, and suddenly things are getting too quiet, too still, to stop them.

She needs to be moving. She needs to be look for Graham. But her brain isn't working anymore, and she isn't sure where to look.

The helplessness scares the hell out of her.

Because all she can think about is that gun. Aiming at Graham's chest.

It would have been quick. He'd have bled out on the floor. Never made it out of Regina's house.

The first time Regina wanted him dead, she'd had no interest in dragging it out. In holding him hostage.

But Emma doesn't want to think about that. It means remembering that she has no reason to think that Graham's still alive.

And Emma needs to believe she's looking for _Graham_. Not his body.

David holds a plate in front of her, a stack of grilled cheeses. Her throat constricts even tighter. Breathing hurts.

"Emma?"

Grilled cheeses. Their first date.

Mary Margaret's off the couch, kneeling in front of her, beside David. They look so sad and worried.

"Emma, honey…"

She touches her face; she's crying.

Emma stands so quickly the plate upends in David's hand, sandwiches falling to the floor. "I have to keep looking, I have to-"

"Emma, we've talked to everyone-"

"You can't help Graham if you don't take care of yourself-"

"You've already done plenty for him-"

"No, I haven't!" Emma bursts out, her voice thick with tears. "I haven't! I'm…_I_ am the reason he's gone! _I_ am the one who walked out. We…we had a fight, and I walked out. I ran, just like I always do, and now he's…" Her face twists.

Mary Margaret's eyes are shining with tears. "Oh, Emma…"

"_No_." She shrugs away from Mary Margaret's hug, not wanting comfort she doesn't deserve. "I c-can't give up on him again. If I had stayed, if I had listened, he, he wouldn't…"

It's like something breaks inside her, and suddenly Emma's crying too hard to keep talking, loud, harsh sobs that hurt her chest, and she sags against the wall of the living room. Because she's thinking about the gun again, even though she doesn't want to.

Mary Margaret's arms close around her, and soon the only thing Emma's aware of are gentle, soothing fingers threading through her hair.

They're right beside Mary Margaret's bedroom, so after a moment she leads her sobbing roommate inside.

Emma's been holding it together all day, so she doesn't have the strength to even pretend to protest as Mary Margaret leads her to the bed. She simply curls up and cries, letting Mary Margaret sit beside her and stroke her hair.

David follows them as far as the doorway, leaning against the doorframe and watching with a sharp ache in his chest. He meets Mary Margaret's eyes, and quietly says, "I should probably go."

Somehow, Emma hears him, and like a reflex, she shakes her head in protest and chokes out, "You can stay."

David's eyebrows shoot up, and even Mary Margaret can't hide her surprise, but he doesn't hesitate to come inside, sitting tentatively on the edge of the bed.

The comfort of their presence, both of them, surprises even Emma. Thoughts of the curse, Graham's claim about her parents, drift through her mind, but she can't hold onto the thought.

"He's dead." The insistence slips out as soon as her sobs have dwindled just enough to allow words. "Graham is…he's dead." She isn't supposed to be thinking about this.

"We don't know that." There are tears on Mary Margaret's cheeks, and she meets David's gaze with a look of powerlessness that nearly breaks him.

"He is, he is, he's dead…" Emma rolls over a little more, her face against Mary Margaret's comforter, and she tightens her fingers around the blanket.

Emma Swan does not break. She does not cry. She does not let anyone else see her vulnerable.

But she has never let herself love like this. She has never let herself need anyone. Now, having failed, she remembers why.

~(OUAT)~

His throat is raw from screaming, and his hands ache from banging against the metal bars of his cell.

Now, Graham sits slumped against the back of the cell. He's lost any sense of how long it's been. His mouth is dry, his muscles stiff.

It must be late by now, but he can't sleep. Graham grits his teeth together, tightening his jaw until it aches.

He can't stop worrying about Emma. He's terrified that Regina made good on her threat anyway, that she never intended to leave Emma alone no matter what he did.

Graham closes his eyes, cursing under his breath. He played right into Regina's hands, reacting just the way she wanted him to. And even if Emma's okay for now, he can't protect her anymore.

He tenses when he hears the footsteps, but can't make himself to stand up right away. Then Regina slips out of the shadows, smiling casually at him.

Immediately Graham gets to his feet, making it to the bars in two quick strides. "Where is she?"

Regina arches an eyebrow. "Touching. I'd think you'd be a bit more concerned where _you_ are, considering the circumstances-"

Graham ignores her, his knuckles going white as he wraps his fingers around the bars. "If you touched her, I swear-"

"Yes, you're very threatening from behind bars," she retorts dryly. Regina's lips curl, and she allows herself a moment to enjoy Graham's barely suppressed rage, the rage that has him visibly trembling. Finally, though, she continues, "Relax. It looked like you did a good enough job on Miss Swan for now." Graham's eyes close as he remembers the look on Emma's face the last time he saw her, right before she ran away from him.

Then, just as she's let that image settle, Regina casually adds, "And if not, knowing you've disappeared will probably do for now."

Graham physically lunges forward, but there's nowhere to go, and Regina doesn't even flinch as the bars rattle. She just keeps talking, voice maddeningly conversational. "I tried to make it easier, of course. Told her you'd taken off in the night, resigned your position, moved away, and left the message with me."

He's making low, snarling sounds deep in his throat, and Graham turns around and walks to the back of the cell, sick of looking at the obvious satisfaction in her eyes when she talks about Emma. Graham flattens his palms on the concrete wall and lowers his head, taking sharp, shallow breaths.

"I thought it might ease her mind, but for some reason, she didn't seem to believe me," Regina continues, not attempting to disguise the glee in her voice. "Very worried, running around all day, trying to find you…"

Graham whirls, practically baring his teeth. "Why do this? Why keep me alive why not just…just end it. Why torture her?"

Regina slowly walks closer to the bars, stopping when her face is inches from his. "Because you and I both know that your precious _Emma_ isn't just a random civilian who isn't from our world." She narrows her eyes, all traces of amusement gone. "She's Snow White's brat. The supposed savior. And that makes her, incompetent as she is, very, very dangerous to me."

Graham keeps his expression impassive, fumbling to feign ignorance. "I don't know what you're-"

"Please, drop the act, Huntsman. We both know it's true." Regina resumes her pacing, sneer returning to her lips. "Until now, the only thing I had that she loved was Henry. And I didn't relish the thought of using him as…bait or leverage."

She stops, and her eyes rove over him. It's a look Graham recognizes from Before, the one that makes his skin crawl, the one that makes him feel dirty and sick all at once. "You, though…you I have no problem using." She smirks. "As I'm sure you remember."

His stomach clenches, and Graham lowers his eyes, fighting nausea. His eyelids squeeze shut and he thinks of Emma.

Worried about him. Looking for him. Blaming herself, probably. Blaming Regina, definitely. Going after Regina, putting herself in danger…

He cuts his eyes at Regina, words fighting for dominance in his throat. But he says nothing, knowing nothing he can say will help, knowing it will only fuel Regina.

She waits a full minute for another reaction, then finally slides a plate and glass under the bars. "Eat up, Hunstman," she purrs. "I need you alive…for the time being."

~(OUAT)~

She wakes up in Mary Margaret's bed, on top of the covers. Her eyes are dry and burning, and her whole body feels wrecked, like the emotions of the previous day had taken a physical toll.

Mary Margaret's stretched out beside her, still asleep in her clothes, and David's half sitting up on her other side, his back slumped against the headboard, neck tilted down in what looks like a very uncomfortable position.

Heat floods Emma's cheeks as she looks at both of them. She doesn't remember falling asleep last night, doesn't remember when she stopped crying.

She slides carefully off the end of the bed, moving gingerly so as not to disturb either of them.

In the bathroom, she splashes cold water on her face and keeps her eyes averted from the mirror.

Emma's eyes land on Graham's toothbrush, hanging beside hers, and just like her vision blurs, throat tightening.

_No_, she scolds herself angrily, bracing her fingers on the edge of the counter and closing her eyes, willing the tears away.

_Finding people's what I do._ She said that just after she met Graham. It had never been more important.

So she focuses. She numbs herself as much as she's still able to. She tells herself that she can handle this, that she's used to being alone.

And Emma promises herself that she'll find him. She doesn't let herself think about what she might be finding.

~(OUAT)~

She sets a plate of lasagna and a glass of lemonade in front of him, then takes her place across the table without a word. She's mostly given up trying to talk to him. Instead, she sighs a lot, and rolls her eyes, conveying without words her impatience with what she calls his "little tantrum".

They eat in silence for awhile. Eventually, Regina arches an eyebrow. "Are you ever planning on speaking to me?"

Henry stabs his fork at the food almost violently, narrowing his eyes and staying silent.

Regina heaves a sigh. "You're being childish, Henry. You can't honestly believe I did something to the sheriff." She leans forward. "This is merely Miss Swan not wanting to admit she drove him away."

Henry lowers his eyes at his plate, shoving in another mouthful to stop himself from rising to the bait and arguing.

"Really, she's embarrassing herself, running around town, investigating a disappearance that doesn't exist. It's unprofessional. She's making a spectacle of herself, and she's wasting time."

Henrys head snaps up, words spilling out before he could stop himself. "Emma's the acting sheriff, and that means she gets to make him a missing person if she wants to. Lots of people believe Emma. Ruby does. And Archie." He narrows his eyes, scornful. "They don't believe _you_."

Regina smirks. "The waitress who wears too much makeup and your psychiatrist who got himself trapped in a mine? I'm hardly clamoring for their support."

The truth is, Graham's disappearance has been the main source of town gossip and speculation over the past week. Many people side with Emma, unable to ignore the suspicious quickness of Graham's departure and his choice of Regina as his messenger. Many others, though, can't bring themselves to believe such extreme accusations against their mayor.

Henry lifts his chin, a challenge flashing in his eyes. "If Graham just moved away, how come his phone's _always_ off?"

"Obviously he doesn't want to speak to _her_," Regina replies calmly.

"He remembered!" Henry insists hotly. "He remembered who he was, so you took him-"

This earns him an eyeroll and a particularly long-suffering sigh. "Not this nonsense again-"

Henry slides the chair back, violently, and without another word discards half of his dinner in the trashcan and runs up to his bedroom.

He slams the door behind him and crashes facedown on his bed, his whole body shaking with anger. He wants to go see Emma, but it's hard to be around her lately. The look in her eyes always makes him feel panicked and sad, and though Henry knows she tries to smile and talk around him, she can't quite fake it. She goes quiet for stretches of time, and he has to call her name several times before she finally hears it and remembers he's there.

~(OUAT)~

"David? David, wake up."

"Whaisit?"

"Do you hear that?"

"What?"

"That."

"There's a light on…"

"Damn it…"

Mary Margaret throws the covers off and wraps a robe around her shoulders. David follows, tugging on a T-shirt before hurrying after Mary Margaret into the living room.

"Emma, it's three in the morning."

Emma doesn't look up when they enter. She's sitting in the living room floor, hunched over a file. Stacks of papers and folders litter the floor around her.

David and Mary Margaret glance at each other, eyes reflections of worry. Raising his voice, David says, "Emma?"

Emma jumps slightly, looking up at them, then tugs a white pair of headphones from her ears. She looks back and forth between them for a moment, seeming to take a moment to register their presence. "What are you guys doing up?"

For a moment, Mary Margaret's at a loss for words. Emma's got that wild eyed, disconnected look on her face, the one she's worn for the past week since Graham disappeared.

David clears his throat. "Emma, it's three a.m. You've gotta get some sleep."

"I'm fine," she mutters, eyes darting back to the papers in her hands.

Mary Margaret kneels down on the floor beside her, noting the way Emma's fingers tremble as she untangles her discarded headphones. Finally, she asks, "What are you working on?"

"Financial records from the town," Emma replies mechanically. "Purchase receipts, property records…"

"How'd you get those?"

She averts her eyes, and mumbles something unintelligible that Mary Margaret doesn't want to question.

David eyes the headphones. "What are you listening to?"

"I bugged Regina's office." Emma's voice is flat.

They look at each other again, and Mary Margaret swallows an instinctual surge of caution. She knows there's no point in telling Emma to play by the rules here.

"Anything useful?"

Emma's face tightens. She shakes her head mutely and shoves the earbuds back in place. Her eyes harden with intensity, and they watch as she visibly withdraws, going to the place where she exists lately, the place with tunnel vision focus that only Henry and, even more rarely, Mary Margaret or David, can coax her out of for brief periods of time.

Mary Margaret makes cocoa and sets the mug in front of her without comment. David brings in pillows and blankets for the couch, making it easy on her in case she decides to grab some sleep.

Emma doesn't look up again, and finally David links his fingers with Mary Margaret's and they go back to bed, the silence between them heavy.

~(OUAT)~

Emma's in the station, listening for more hours of surveillance audio from Regina's office, while she pours over property records of the town. She doesn't think about the fact that she's starting to go in circles, looking over evidence for the second or third time. She doesn't think about the fact that she's running out of plans.

Prince stays curled up in Graham's chair when they're in the station. The cat's eyes are always watching her, and after awhile Emma starts to imagine that his stare is accusing, silently asking why she isn't doing more, why she can't bring Graham back.

It's been eleven days.

And then Regina comes in to fire her.

Mary Margaret comes home to find her destroying a toaster and fighting tears she's kept away for over a week.

"_Graham's_ the sheriff, and he chose me, and she wants to just fire me and give _Graham's badge_ to Sidney..."

She's seconds away from falling apart all over again when Mr. Gold shows up.

Emma sleepwalks through the election. She lets Gold take care of the logistics, lets Mary Margaret and David and several other friends handle campaigning. She doesn't pull her focus from her search, not getting involved even when Graham's disappearance becomes the central issue, with Sidney runs articles accusing Emma of using town resources on a nonexistent crime.

Emma stays uninvolved and largely oblivious until one article.

She stays oblivious all day, alone in the station poring over files and statements, until she runs out of coffee after her sixth or so cup of the day (she isn't sleeping much lately).

People stare and whisper when she walks in the diner, but that's not unusual lately. Even the look on Ruby's face when she orders doesn't tip Emma off to anything strange, but the waitress leans forward and says in an undertone, "I think they've gone way too far this time. We can figure out something new for the flyers...attack ads, that's a thing, right? It isn't fair that they have control of the papers-"

Emma blinks at her. "What are you talking about, Ruby?"

Ruby winces. "Oh, you haven't seen it-"

"Can you get that coffee, Ruby?" David sweeps up behind Emma, giving Ruby a significant look, and the waitress gives him an apologetic look before sweeping off behind the counter.

Emma's brain feels sluggish. Lately it takes supreme effort to pull herself into interactions, so her coffee's in front of her before she processes enough to turn to David. "What was she talking about?"

"Just more of Regina's crap in the paper, don't worry about it…"

Emma looks up at him, eyes narrowing. She's ignored articles attacking her for the past week, and not once has anyone been so insistent she doesn't look. "David, what's it say?"

He touches her arms and hesitates, unsure what of what to say, his expression pained.

Emma pulls away, striding purposefully to the nearest booth and snatching a newspaper from the staring couple sitting there.

The words _Illicit Affair_ jump at her from the headline, just above a distant picture of her and Graham, kissing by the squad car, and Emma's whole body goes stone still.

The article somehow makes their relationship seem like the most scandalous, unprofessional pairing in Storybrooke history. It's not flattering to either of them, and the attacks on Graham make Emma's blood turn to fire. In the end, it's another excuse to accuse her of driving Graham away.

She stalks into Regina's office, heat in her eyes, so close to a breaking point that she's tempted to hold the woman hostage until she admits what she did to Graham.

But she's barely started in on Regina when the fire starts, and Regina hurts her leg, and for the first time between them, it's like Emma has the power.

"You're going to leave me, aren't you?"

There's genuine fear in Regina's eyes as she looks up at Emma, but it doesn't stir even a breath of sympathy. All Emma can think about is Graham, and she wonders what he looked like before Regina did whatever she did.

Then a plan hits her, and she runs for a fire extinguisher. When she returns, relief breaks over Regina's face, but Emma plants herself in front of the mayor on the stairs, glare blazing as she stares down at him.

"Tell me where he is," she demands.

Regina stares at her, incredulous. "What the hell are you doing, there's no time for this-"

The heat crackles around her, sweat slick on her skin, and Emma's having to gasp for clean air. But she doesn't move. "_Tell me what you did to him_."

Regina braces her hands on the bannister and attempts to pull herself up, but Emma bears over her, making sure there's nowhere to go. Regina's eyes go wide with terror, color draining from her face.

"I swear to God, I will leave you," Emma's yelling now, her voice shaking. "I'll do it, if you don't tell me where to find him right now, I'll make sure you don't get out-"

"You won't find him," Regina gasps out. "It won't matter if I tell you what happened, you won't-"

"_WHERE IS GRAHAM?"_ She sounds nearly hysterical. A coughing fit seizes her, and she's getting lightheaded and dizzy, but she doesn't move, desperate for this to work.

Slowly, Regina's terror falls away, realization dawning on her face. She looks like someone who's just realized she has a trump card.

"You don't help me out of here," she hisses. "And there's no one left who knows where he is. No one left to bring him food and water." Her eyes narrow. "You help me, or he dies."

Emma closes her eyes, her whole body going weak. Dazedly, she pulls Regina up, letting the other woman lean against her, and helps her out of the burning building.

Flashes of cameras greet her when they emerge into the fresh air, but Emma immediately lets go of Regina and walks away from the crowd, ignoring shouted questions and voices screaming her name.

It isn't long before Mary Margaret and David find her, crouched in the grass around the side of the building.

"Emma, is it true?"

"Did you really save Regina from the fire?"

Emma lifts her head; tears are streaming down her cheeks. Mary Margaret's arm goes automatically around her. "Emma, what-"

"He's alive," she whispers, every syllable trembling. "Graham's alive, Mary Margaret, he's…he's alive."

"What, how do you know?"

"Regina, she admitted it, she d-didn't know what she was admitting, but he's…he's alive, he's still alive…" Her voice falls apart, and Emma lets herself really cry for the first time since the day Graham went missing. Sobs of sheer relief rip through her; until this moment, she hasn't let herself acknowledge how little hope she had of finding him alive.


	11. Echo

**Author's Note:** Alright, so this update has been a long time coming. I'm in the Real Actual Adult World now, which involves working, and also getting more serious about my actual writing. But fanfic's still a good outlet, and a good writer's block cure, so I've tried to just keep that to oneshots and mental activity but…alas. I had this story all planned out and I don't want to let go of it. And some people still mention it, so…if anyone's still out there, heere's an update.

**Important Thing to Keep in Mind: **I started this story about three fourths of the way into season one, and I had pretty much planned out the whole thing. That means any information that we found out this season, or in the last few episodes, doesn't apply (primarily in terms of curse breaking, the way magic works in Storybrooke, etc). Some episodes ended up coincidentally proving things I'd thought up right, while completely contradicting others.

Chapter Eleven

_I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name_  
><em>Like a fool at the top of my lungs<em>  
><em>Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright<em>  
><em>But it's never enough<em>

_Cause my echo, echo_  
><em>Is the only voice coming back<em>  
><em>My shadow, shadow<em>  
><em>Is the only friend that I have<em>

Emma wins the sheriff election without really noticing. She carries the badge – _his _badge - around with her, but doesn't wear it, preferring to keep her deputy badge. She stubbornly tells anyone who asks that she's only acting sheriff, just doing the job until Graham gets back, no matter what any official documents say.

Because she knows now that he's alive, and that knowledge has saved her.

In the two weeks since the fire, much to Mary Margaret and David's relief, Emma has lost some of that dazed disconnection with the world around her. Now she's all fierce, determined purpose, obsessively running her investigation like a machine.

Mary Margaret and David have gotten in the habit of going by the sheriff station every night after dinner; Emma rarely returns to the apartment before dark anymore.

Tonight, they eat dinner at Granny's, and cross the street to the station carrying takeout for Emma.

Her eyes flit up when they walk, but the "Hi," she gives them is crisp and perfunctory.

"Brought you dinner," Mary Margaret sits the bag on Emma's desk.

"Thanks." Again, the politeness is cursory, and Emma's eyes settle on David. "Anything?"

He shakes his head. "She didn't even leave the office all morning."

As always, David hates the disappointment that flickers in Emma's eyes. She shakes it off, though, sliding her gaze to Mary Margaret. "This afternoon?"

"Her office to the house," Mary Margaret tells her, tone apologetic.

Emma exhales a sharp, frustrated breath. Ever since Regina essentially revealed she's holding Graham hostage, bringing him food and water alone, Emma's had them all surveying Regina's movements. David, who's been working part time at the animal shelter since Graham disappeared, splits the days with Emma, following Regina from home to her office and keeping an eye on the building. Mary Margaret takes over after school, and once Regina's home, Henry's under instruction to call Emma if she leaves the house before his bedtime.

Emma's eyes flit habitually to the hook where Graham's jacket is hanging. Then, forcing herself to look away, she states resolutely, "Maybe tonight."

Mary Margaret and David exchange a look. Around ten o clock, when Henry goes to bed, Emma's been taking over the watch.

"Emma," Mary Margaret begins tactfully. "You _are_ sleeping, right?"

"I'm fine, Mare-"

"Because I'm pretty sure Regina sleeps."

"I've got it under control, there's a schedule."

Mary Margaret almost smiles. "Oh, well, as long as there's a schedule."

Emma smiles at both of them, weary but genuine. "Thanks for all this. Really."

"Of course."

David taps the bag of takeout food. "Eat this."

"I will."

They exchange goodnights, but they're halfway to the door when David stops abruptly and turns. "Oh, Emma. Something else you might want to know." She looks up expectantly. "The new guy in town, that stranger on the motorcycle…he was hanging around outside Regina's today. He talked to Henry for a little while."

Emma frowns. She's seen the guy, and heard Henry's exclamations over the novelty of someone new coming to Storybrooke. It's stupid, but she feels privately resentful of him, his dark stubble and leather jacket and the timing of his entrance, sweeping in just after Graham disappeared.

"How long's a little while?"

"I don't know, about ten minutes? Until Regina came out."

"And this guy, he was just parked outside the house?"

"Looked like it."

Emma runs a hand through her hair, overwhelmed. The last thing she needs is an entirely new person to worry about, to watch. "Alright, thanks. I'll look into it."

~(OUAT)~

Emma sits behind a wall of shrubbery, across the street and one house over from the mayor's sprawling home. The ground's damp, so she's spread her jacket over the grass. The downside is, she's cold in just a tank top and jeans, so she's shivering and hugging herself in the cool, crisp night.

She used to try parking down the street, alternately borrowing Mary Margaret or David's car (the squad car and her own yellow bug being very conspicuous vehicles) for the watch.

But after nearly two weeks of watching, Emma's grown afraid of attracting attention…as well as less hopeful about needing to follow Regina quickly when she leaves.

None of their watches have turned up anything helpful. Regina moves from her house to her office, with occasional stops by the town hall or Granny's or the grocery store or her father's grave, and back again. There's no sneaking off to some mysterious location, even though she's supposedly been bringing Graham food and water.

There's a voice in the back of Emma's mind that likes to wonder aloud if Regina, having never intended for Emma to know Graham was alive, simply reversed that decision after the fire. She can't think like that, won't let herself.

Besides, if Regina's going to the trouble to keep him as a hostage, there's a reason for it.

Yet it doesn't make sense. They've readjusted the schedule several times, and for at least the past four days, there've been no gaps in their surveillance of Regina. Her house and her office building have been thoroughly searched.

So when is she sneaking off to Graham?

Hunched in the bushes, Emma lets her mind wander, turning over the only possible explanation that's occurred to her: that Regina has help. It's possible she was lying about being the only one who could keep Graham alive, that being the crux of her argument for Emma to save her from the fire.

But who's her accomplice?

Mr. Gold seems the most likely Storybrooke resident to participate in such illicit activity. But he'd just helped Emma beat Regina and her candidate in the election, so he obviously isn't working with her. Unless that was all a ruse to make sure Emma didn't suspect him…

Her head hurts. Paranoia is seeping in.

Sidney. He was Regina's candidate , and seems the closest thing she has to a right hand man. Emma makes a mental note to talk to Mary Margaret and David, maybe switch the surveillance to Sidney for a couple days.

Thinking of her roommate and her boyfriend reminds Emma what David said earlier.

That stranger on the motorbike might be worth investigating, as well.

~(OUAT)~

Graham doesn't sleep much anymore.

At least, not at any regular intervals. His cell is dark, always, and he can't hold onto any sense of day or night, or even time passing. Regina's visits to drop off food and tease him on Emma's current mental state have no semblance of regularity.

It's starting to eat away at him, all that quiet, the long stretch of time that all runs together, the cramped space of the tiny cell. Sometimes, Graham can feel himself losing focus, his sense on reality falling away.

In those moments, he picks a memory to live in, and it brings him back.

Their first date, eating grilled cheese on the floor of his apartment, Emma, soaking wet and wearing one of his shirt, beautiful in firelight.

Emma waking up in his jail cell, the day after they met, disheveled and pissed and so damn amusing.

Her hand on his chest, eyes soft and compassionate and reassuring, showing him the thump of his heartbeat.

Henry hugging him at the hospital after Emma woke up.

Waking up one morning to find Emma, flat on her back in bed beside him, giggling like a child as Prince walked gingerly across her chest.

Graham's terrified of running out of memories, so he calls them up sparingly, only sinking into them in times of real panic. As long as there is more to remember, he can keep going. He can stay focused on why he has to survive this.

~(OUAT)~

Emma goes home to sleep for about two hours, the time between Henry waking up for school and when she has to be at the station.

Prince curls up beside her, an orange huddle on Graham's pillow. Later, when she puts the slowly growing kitten down on the floor of the station, Prince makes a beeline for Graham's desk, hopping onto his chair and settling in, his green eyes wide and reproachful on Emma. It feels like Prince is constantly asking her the same question: _where is he?_

There's other work to do, other calls to take, paperwork to file (she imagines Graham teasing her about actually having to do paperwork now that he's gone). But as always, Emma feels unsettled when she isn't doing something directly related to finding Graham. Even knowing that David's taken over the watch by now and has eyes on Regina, she feels restless.

Emma picks up the phone and calls him, deciding they should talk about switching their surveillance to Sideny sooner rather than later; it's been over a week, and Regina's routine hasn't varied in the slightest.

He picks up a nanosecond after the first ring. "Emma?"

"Hey, how's it going?"

"She hasn't left her office, but I've got eyes on it."

"Don't worry about it," Emma sighs, the slightest bit of guilt seeping into her tone. They've wasted a lot of time watching Regina. "She's obviously not going to see him regularly…which means she has someone else do it."

"That's a good point. So who should we start watching?" David's reply is immediate, and Emma feels a rush of gratitude toward him.

A month ago, she'd have laughed at the idea of relying so much on David. But he's been a rock through all of this. While Mary Margaret is usually who she goes to for comfort and empathy, David is the best at calming her down, at making her believe that maybe it_ is_ going to be okay, of never failing to remind her that she isn't alone in this.

"I thought maybe we'd start with Sidney?" She doesn't mean for it to come out as a question. "He seems to do whatever she says."

"That's a good idea," David replies, and he sounds genuine. "Want to start today?"

"Yeah, can you meet me at the diner? We can figure out how to adjust the schedule and…I really need coffee."

There's a beat, and she can hear the concern in his voice, how badly he wants to ask her if she slept. But he doesn't ask. Instead, he only says, "Sure. I'll meet you in ten minutes?"

"Great. David…" Emma pauses, and there's a heartbeat of hesitation before she adds quietly, "Thanks."

She hopes he knows she isn't just talking about today.

~(OUAT)~

Emma gets to Granny's before David, but her brain is fuzzy and weak and thus crying out for caffeine; she's about to go to the counter and order when she notices who's sitting in the corner booth.

The stranger, the new guy, that dude with the motorcycle. Whatever his name is, people are definitely talking about him, enough to support Henry's claim that visitors to Storybrooke (Emma excluded) are a rarity.

And he's staring at Emma. Not even trying to disguise it.

Annoyance knifes through her, and Emma turns on her heel, changing directions from the counter and approaching his booth. The stranger smiles as if he was just waiting for her to approach him, and that just makes Emma angrier.

"Do you know who I am?" she asks him brusquely, leveling a glare at him.

"Who are you?" he asks gamely, though in a tone that suggests he's only humoring her.

"Emma Swan. Acting sheriff," she grits out in terse phrases.

"_Acting _sheriff? I thought I read that you were just elected."

Emma ignores that, retorting coolly, "This is the part where you tell me who _you _are."

He grins pleasantly. "No, thanks. Why are you so interested, anyway?"

"You were talking to Henry."

For a moment, the stranger's face is blank with incomprehension; then, realization strikes. "You mean the little kid who came up to me asking me questions?"

Emma narrows her eyes. Her suspicion and distrust are closer to the surface than ever these days. "What were you doing outside his house?"

"My bike broke down."

She's trying to remember the exact day he arrived. Was it right after the fire? Did Regina call him in, suspecting Emma would start watching her?

"Do you know Regina?"

"Not personally, no. Heard she's the mayor."

Emma grits her teeth in frustration, her eyes roving the stranger and his booth. They fall on the box sitting beside him on the booth; from what she's gathered, it's been the subject of much speculation, as the stranger is never seen without it.

"What's in your mysterious box?"

He scrutinizes her for the moment, far too much enjoyment on his face. He can see that she wants information, badly. Finally, he replies smoothly, "Let me buy you a drink sometime and I'll tell you."

Immediately Emma's face grows hot, a strange fluttering of panic starting in her chest. That's the last thing she'd expected. "I'm…I'm with someone. I'm involved."

"Really? Oh, right, the _former_ sheriff, wasn't it? Thought I heard he isn't around anymore."

The crack of her palm against his cheek is ringing in her ears before she even registers what she's doing. Instantly, though, Emma's in motion, her hands seizing then neck of his shirt, one foot propped against the edge of his booth as she shoves him awkwardly against the wall.

"What the hell do you know about Graham?! _Tell me what you know_." Emma's voice is raw and loud and inching toward hysteria. The whole diner is silent, watching.

"I-I, _n-nothing_! I don't know anything!, I swear!" The stranger's eyes are huge, expression genuinely taken aback and a little frightened. "I, I'm a writer, look, I'm just a writer…" He slides his arm under hers and clicks open the box with shaky fingers. There's an old typewriter inside. "When I go to new towns I ask around about the biggest…scandals and gossip. That's all."

Slowly, Emma releases her grip on him and straightens up. Her breaths are harsh and shallow, her whole body shaking with adrenaline. "_Your name_," she grits out, a demand.

"August," the stranger replies immediately. "August W. Booth. Okay?"

August W. Booth is looking at her like she's insane, and in truth Emma is starting to feel the slightest bit crazy.

A hand comes to rest on her shoulder, and she turns to see David, eyes soft with worry. "C'mon, Emma." He steers her away gently and, glancing over his shoulder, meets Ruby's eyes. "Ruby, can we get a coffee?"

Emma's moving away when she hears David say coldly, "Stay away from her. And stay away from Henry."

They stand by the door and wait for coffee, which Ruby brings out to Emma and tells her not to worry about it when she shakily tries to pull out money. The kindness in Ruby's eyes, and the look she gives David, make Emma wonder how messed up she actually seems; she hasn't looked in the mirror in days.

David follows Emma out of Grannys, and she can feel the weight of his gaze on her. After a moment of scrutinizing, even though he generally leaves these kind of observations to Mary Margaret, he says, "Emma, you need sleep."

"I slept this morning."

"For how long?" When she doesn't answer, David continues, "Okay. Here's what's going to happen. Tonight, I'll take watch on Sidney." Emma opens her mouth to protest, but David raises his voice just a notch and continues, "And this afternoon we'll sit down with Mary Margaret and figure out how we're going to do this. We'll rotate nights."

"David, I can't ask you guys to do that-"

"You aren't asking," he counters firmly. "And neither am I. This _is_ what's going to happen."

~(OUAT)~

Henry walks out of the school and immediately begins scanning for Emma.

Operation Cobra's been busy lately, with all efforts focused on finding Graham. Henry has to be home by the time the Queen gets back, and has to stay there, watching her, until he goes to bed, so there are only a few hours between that and school that he can see Emma.

So she's been meeting him after school, and instead of taking the bus home, he walks to the station with Emma. Sometimes they get ice cream, and Henry hangs out at the station, and for a few hours Emma pretends things are normal.

Today, though, Emma's not alone. David's beside her, and Henry's eyes light up. David's usually still on surveillance duty after school, until Mary Margaret gets there.

He runs toward them, excitement slipping into his voice. "Did you guys find something?"

Emma grimaces a little, but then forces a smile. "No, David just has to talk to Mary Margaret."

David grins down at the boy. "How's it going, Henry?"

"Fine."

"Glad to hear it." He touches Emma's arm. "We'll meet you at the station, okay?"

"Okay." Then, to Henry, she says, "C'mon, kid, let's go."

They start off, and when Emma asks him how school was, Henry has stories ready. He and Miss Blanchard have talked about this. He can ask her or David all the worried questions about Graham he wants, but with Emma, he talks about other things. He is her distraction, the only one that can give her a slight mental break from constant worry.

But today, Emma brings it up when they're nearly outside the station. "Henry, listen…I really, really appreciate what you've done, helping us keep an eye on your mom-"

"The _queen_," Henry corrects sharply, eyes flashing. He's been even more unforgiving toward Regina since Graham disappeared.

"Right," Emma agrees tiredly. "You've done really well. But you don't have to anymore."

Henry's eyebrows knit together. "What? Why?"

Emma stops walking to look down at him. "I still want you to let us know if you happen to notice her leaving at night or anything but…you don't have to keep watch the whole time."

"How come?"

"Well, she hasn't gone anywhere, kid. Not for nearly two weeks. We think someone else must be checking in on Graham, so…we're going to follow Sidney for awhile."

Henry's eyes light up. "Oh, yeah! That's a good idea…" He starts fumbling around in his backpack, pulling out the bulky storybook. "Cause Sidney's the genie, and he became the mirror…and he'll do whatever the Queen says-"

Emma closes the book gently, her stomach knotting up like it always does when they talk about the curse; it's impossible to hear about fairytales without remembering her last fight with Graham.

"Henry, remember what we talked about? We're not going to focus on the curse for awhile. Not until we find Graham."

"I wasn't…" The slightest bit of hurt fills Henry's eyes, and Emma's throat narrows with guilt. Before she can apologize, Henry lowers his eyes and says, "I know you don't really believe in the curse. Graham said it's a lot for someone like you to take on faith…he said we needed proof."

Emma's whole body goes rigid. "When…when did Graham say that?"

"I don't know. Two weeks before you were in the hospital, I guess? But we talked about it all the time."

Emma feels vaguely dizzy. "All…all the time?"

"Yeah. He _remembered, _Emma. After you kissed him, he remembered being the Huntsman and saving Snow White and getting his heart taken by the Queen…he didn't know a lot about the curse, because he was her captive the whole time she was planning it, so I told him everything the book said about it, about how you're the savior. He said he'd help me find proof, but we never got to…"

"Hey, guys."

Emma and Henry both turn; Mary Margaret and David have caught up with them, and both immediately give Emma a concerned look when they see her expression.

"Everything okay?"

Somehow, Emma finds her voice. "Yeah, we're good."

Mary Margaret meets her eye. "David said you wanted to work out the new plan?"

Recovering herself, Emma nods, her voice stronger when she replies, "Yeah, let's go inside the station and talk about it?"

"Sure…" Mary Margaret's eyes dart to Henry, questioning.

"Hey, kid…." Emma kneels down beside him, taking both his hands in hers. "I'm sorry about the curse, and the book…I know you're just trying to help."

"It's okay."

Emma smiles at him, and lets go of his hands to ruffle his hair. "Here…" She fishes some money out of her wallet and hands him the crumpled bills. "Can you run across to Granny's and have a hot chocolate while I talk to Mary Margaret and David? And then we can talk some Operation Cobra, I promise."

"It's alright," Henry tells her. "Finding Graham _is_ part of Operation Cobra."

"Good." Emma stands. "We won't be long."

~(OUAT)~

Graham jerks awake after about two minutes of sleep. He's so used to the quiet of the cell, that he's become attuned to the tiniest unusual noise.

Now, the slight creak somewhere above him is enough to alert Graham that Regina will be appearing in a few moments.

Sure enough, she descends the staircase and steps out of the shadows, the usual look on her face: a polite smirk badly concealing her utter glee at having him at this position.

"Huntsman," she greets him, inclining her head.

Graham backs away to the corner of his cell, the muscles in his face clenching tight. He tries not to say much to her anymore, doesn't want to give her the satisfaction.

Regina pushes a tray of food and two bottles of water under the bars. She watches him, seeming to wait for him to approach the food.

Graham doesn't move, even though his stomach feels clenched and aching with hunger.

When the silence goes on for awhile, Regina says, provocatively, "Thought you'd want an update on your replacement sheriff." When he says nothing, she continues, "She's still looking for you. It's sweet, though getting a bit pathetic." Graham digs his teeth into his lower lip. "She won't find you."

There's something about Regina's tone that crawls the length of his spine. Like she's not just taunting him, but letting him in on some knowledge she's been withholding.

Before he can stop himself, Graham lurches forward, crossing the cell in three long strides and gripping the bars, narrowing his eyes at Regina. "If you _touch her…"_

"Again with the empty threats." Regina smiles, amused. "All I mean is…she can't find you. No matter how hard she looks."

He doesn't want to rise to the bait, but Graham's weak. He's starving for information about Emma, for some sort of hint of what Regina has planned. "And…why…is that?"

Regina chuckles slightly. "Oh, I suppose…I suppose I can tell you. It makes no difference if you know, as there's clearly nothing you can do about it."

And suddenly, Regina waves a hand, a careless, dismissive gesture…and Graham goes hurtling against the opposite wall of his cell, as if some invisible force picked him up and flung him.

Graham stares up at Regina, wide eyed and crumpled in the corner.

She tosses her hair, dark eyes glinting. "This is the only spot in Storybrooke where there's magic left. So I was able to take some precautions." The whites of her teeth flash. "Namely…you can't get in here, or even see that it's there if you don't believe that the magic exists." Regina pauses, letting that sink in. "And we both know, that's not going to happen with your deputy any time soon."

~(OUAT)~

He's waiting for his hot chocolate to cool down when Ruby sets a plate in front of him, too large, warm chocolate chip cookies, which she says are on the house.

Henry thanks her, but his smile falls away immediately, and he props his chin in his hands and sighs.

He misses Graham. And he misses Emma being happy. And the evenings he spent with Emma and Graham, Mary Margaret and David…the warmth of the apartment, the ease and the laughter and the feeling of family.

And Henry feels guilty, every day, because he's the only one who really knows the truth about who they all are and what happened to them, and yet he can't figure out why the queen has Graham.

Suddenly, someone comes up beside him. "You have way too much chocolate in front of you to look so sad, kid."

Henry glances over. Usually, he's curious about this man, the only stranger the town has seen besides Emma, but he's not in the mood. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," he says, tone a little snarky. "And you won't tell anyone your name."

"It's August," he answers easily, sitting on the stool beside him. "And you're Henry."

Henry doesn't ask how he knows this, just stares moodily into his hot chocolate.

"You know, Henry…it's none of my business, but I don't think you're gonna find the answers you want in the bottom of that mug."

"Then where?"

"That book in your bag."

Henry lifts his eyes, suspicious.

"You know I'm a writer. So I'm partial to finding my answers in literary form."

Henry bites his lip, uncertain, and suddenly wary of sharing too much with a stranger. "It's just a book."

"Is it?"

"Yeah."

August pauses, and then his voice drops, heavy with significance. "I think we both know that's not the case."

Henry goes very still, then slowly lifts his eyes to look at August. "What do you know about it?"

"I know it's a book of stories."

"Aren't all books?" Henry shoots back, testing him.

"Stories that really happened," August finishes, eyebrows shooting up.

Finally, Henry's eyes light up, hoope and . "You think my book is real?"

"As real as I am."

"How do you know?" Henry doesn't understand. Graham was able to remember because he was cursed, had been part of the book. But August came from somewhere else, so he'd obviously never been cursed…

"Let's just say that I'm a believer," August says enigmatically. "And I want to help others see the light. That, my friend, is why I'm here."

"But I already believe."

"I'm not here for you, buddy." Henry winces a little at the name, momentarily thinking of Graham. "I'm here for Emma."

"So you want to get her to believe?" Henry clarifies. "What if you just tell her?"

"Well…there are some people, like you and me, we can go on faith. But others, like Emma, they need proof."

"Yeah…" Henry's shoulders drop. "That's pretty much what Graham said."

"Graham?"

"Yeah, he's the Hunstman. The one who let Snow White go?" Henry checks with August, who nods in recognition. "He's Emma's boyfriend, but he's missing. The Queen has him."

"Right, the sheriff." August pauses, considering. "So he…he believed you? About the curse?"

"_Belives_," Henry corrects tersely. "And yes. He remembered who he is, once he and Emma started kissing."

August arches an eyebrow. "True love's kiss, huh?"

"Yeah." Henry lowers his eyes again. "She's been pretty sad."

"Hmm…." August is quiet for a bit, seeming to consider all of this. Finally, he continues, "Don't worry, pal. I'm gonna work on Emma, okay? And I think once I help her believe…I can help her find Graham…and then maybe even break that curse."

~(OUAT)~

**A/N: **One more important thing to note, it was always my intention with this story for some actual events in season one to still occur (like August coming to town) but occur differently based on certain circumstances of this AU. For example, you won't be seeing the whole 'Regina frames MM for murder plot" because A) Regina has enough going on what with keeping Graham hostage and B) Mary Margaret and David got together much earlier and without nearly the complication with David's wife. In a similar vein, August will show up, but Emma may respond to him very differently because of what's going on with Graham, and what she's already heard about the curse.

Phew. Now, if you stayed with me through all the hiatus and all the rambling….REVIEW.


	12. Losing Your Memory

**Author's Note:** Quick update alert! So glad to see you guys have stuck with me through the hiatus. Loved returning to this world, and couldn't wait to write the next update. So. Read and review!

**General Reminders:** I started this story about 75% into season one, so a lot of the curse revelations and info about how magic works in Storybrooke do not apply to my plans for this story. Some worked out by sheer coincidence, and some were completely contradicted. Also, again, some events that happened in season one still occur (and some dialogue is probably recognizable in certain scenes) but I've been exploring how the AU circumstances will make them play out differently.

Chapter Twelve

_Wake up, it's time, little girl, wake up_  
><em>All the best of what we've done is yet to come<em>  
><em>Wake up, it's time, little girl, wake up<em>  
><em>Just remember who I am in the morning<em>

_You're losing your memory now_  
><em>You're losing your memory now<em>

"How are you still awake?"

Emma lifts her head and shoots her roommate a weary smile. "How'd you know?"

Mary Margaret pushes Emma's bedroom door closed as she steps into the room, the sliver of light disappearing and leaving them again in darkness. "I don't know. Roommate instinct?"

Emma thinks it seems more like maternal instinct, what with Mary Margaret peeking into her bedroom like a mother making sure her child is sleeping soundly, and the thought twists Emma's insides, her brain snagging once again on what Henry said this afternoon, that he and Graham talked about the curse and Graham's supposedly restored memory _all the time_.

Mary Margaret stretches out on Emma's bed beside her, and Emma banishes the thought from her head, glancing over at Mary Margaret and smirking. "I know you're not used to spending nights without David, but don't try anything."

Surprised laughter bubbles out of Mary Margaret, and Emma even joins her for a moment, but then she remembers Graham and guilt stops the laughter cold in her chest.

Seeming to pick up on her change in mood, Mary Margaret falls silent, and for awhile they just lie there in the welcome cover of darkness.

Emma can sense questions and concerns that Mary Margaret's barely suppressing, but eventually it's Emma who breaks the silence.

"What if…" She stops talking abruptly, wincing at the sound of her own voice, childlike and breakable. Emma swallows, then start again. "Do you think maybe…you don't think she killed him, do you? After the fire?"

"No." Mary Margaret's answer is certain and immediate, and though Emma knows she probably wouldn't admit anything differently, a wave of relief rushes through her anyway. "No, it's just like you keep saying. She wouldn't be holding him hostage without a reason. She's planning something with him; we just have to find him before she does it."

"Right."

They're quiet again, and finally Emma can feel her exhaustion edging in. Her last thought before slipping into sleep is that she doesn't want Mary Margaret to go.

~(OUAT)~

The next morning, Emma ignores a pile of paperwork so she can keep an eye on Sidney. Or, rather, his car outside the newspaper offices. David reported nothing from his night of watching, and Emma lets him go home for some sleep before he returns for a shift at the animal shelter.

He takes over for awhile that afternoon, just an hour before Mary Margaret will be out school; the shelter's two doors down from the newspaper building, so David can watch the entrances as well as Sidney's car while he works.

Emma heads for Granny's for lunch, her stomach beginning to growl in hunger (she wonders, equal parts guilt and worry, how well Graham's being fed).

After she finishes, Emma's barely stepped outside the diner when August Booth is in front of her. "Hey."

She freezes, eying him warily. "What do you want?"

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Look, I just want to apologize. I didn't mean anything the other day, about Graham."

Bristling, Emma narrows her eyes. "_Don't _say his name."

"Fine," August agrees calmly. "I'm sorry. I didn't know all of the story. _Most_ of it."

"Whatever, it's fine," she mutters, moving to push past him, but August steps in her path.

"I was wondering if you'd still be willing to get that drink with me."

A muscle jumps along Emma's jawline, and she feels her hand twitch like it wants to slap him again. "What part of this aren't you understanding? _I am with someone."_

"It's not the kind of 'get a drink with me' you're thinking," August counters, tone mild but insistent. "And I think you should be interested."

"The only thing I am interested in right now is looking for Graham."

She's halfway down the sidewalk when August replies, "Exactly."

Emma pulls up short, and slowly pivots to level him with her most intimidating stare. "Believe me. You _don't_ want to fuck with me right now."

"I'm not." His gaze is unwavering. "If you want to find him, you should get this drink with me."

It feels like there's a fist wrapped around Emma's heart, squeezing slightly, holding it still. She strides forward, never breaking eye contact. "You _do _realize I'm the acting sheriff over this investigation? If you know something about where he is, I can arrest you for obstruction of justice."

"I'm not obstructing justice," August points out calmly. "I'm offering to show you something."

He tosses her his bike helmet; it's in her hands for less than a second when Emma throws it back with more force than is necessary. "No." Her tone leaves no room for argument. "I'll drive."

~(OUAT)~

"Are you sure I shouldn't drive-"

"I'm fine," Emma grits out, tightening her grip on the steering wheel so he can't see her hands shaking. "Just tell me where to turn."

The car is silent minus August's occasional directions, and fifteen minutes later they pull off the road and into a clearing.

"We're getting out here."

Emma puts the squad car in park and slowly gets out. Her lungs feel small and constricted, a mix of panic and wariness and ill-advised hope clawing for dominance in her chest.

Her eyes follow August as he gets out of the car and approaching an old fashioned wishing well under a large tree. "Okay, what is this place?"

He throws a glance over his shoulder, looking surprised at the question. "This is where we're getting our drink."

Dizzy, irrational anger breathes down the back of her neck like a monster, and for a moment Emma can only stare dumbly as August walks oh-so-casually over to the well and begins lifting a bucket of water from its depths.

Then, something snaps inside of her and she practically sprints toward him, slapping the bucket out of his hands, eyes blazing as she demands, "What does this place have to do with Graham?"

August looks at her innocently. "Read the plaque."

She does, grinding her teeth together to keep her rage in check.

_For centuries, local legend has claimed that mystical waters run beneath this great land. It is said that these waters possess the power to return that which is lost it its rightful place. If you have lose something precious to you, drink from this well and bear witness to this miracle as what is missing shall be returned._

She reads it. Twice. Then a third time, to make sure she isn't missing something. The fist around her heart is squeezing, and blackness is bleeding into her vision.

Then, in an abrupt motion, Emma whirls around and shoves August hard to the ground.

"What the-"

"Is that supposed to be some sort of joke?!" She's screaming, hating how hysterical her voice sounds, but Emma can barely breathe. "You act like you have some sort of information that's going to help me find him, and you bring me to a fucking wishing well with a stupid legend?"

"It's not a joke-" August starts to scramble up, but Emma thrusts her boot against his shoulder and he collapses again.

"Because this isn't funny to me." To Emma's utter humiliation, there are hot tears stabbing at her eyes like daggers, and the threat of them is working its way into her voice. "He is _important_ to me. He _matters_. And I've been trying so damn hard to get him back, so I don't need mean spirited bastards like you screwing with me-"

August finally pulls himself up, expression finally betraying a modicum of annoyance. "What makes you so sure this is just a joke? How do you know it won't work?" He lifts an eyebrow. "Because it's magic?"

Emma turns away from him, heading to the car and fully prepared to leave him stranded there, but the next thing he says stops her.

"You're telling me no one else has ever suggested to you that magic might be real? Like Henry, maybe?"

There are tears on her cheeks now, so Emma doesn't turn around. Through clenched teeth, she reminds him, "David told you to stay away from Henry."

"Right, David. That was nice of him to be so protective of you the other day. Almost…fatherly." Emma's whole body seizes up; the world feels unsteady beneath her feet.

Then, August adds swiftly, "What about Graham? You saying he never mentioned anything about magic?"

Emma spins to look at him. All traces of that knowing smirk are gone, and he's utterly serious.

There's a long loaded silence, and when he doesn't explain, Emma says softly, "You don't know anything about them. Or me."

August frowns, and for a second he seems to be fighting with himself. Finally, he exhales slowly, then says slowly, "I know more than you think. I know you're an orphan. Raised in foster care. I know a seven year old boy found you, supposedly on the side of the highway and brought you to a diner."

"Good for you," Emma spats. "You can read a newspaper article about me. That doesn't mean-"

But August ignores her and plows ahead. "I know you were wrapped in a blanket. And the name Emma was embroidered on the bottom of it." Shock chases the anger from her eyes, and August keeps his gaze steady. "That wasn't in any article, was it?"

"How…" Emma wraps her arms around herself like it can hold her steady. "How do you know that?"

"Because it's my story. And it's your story."

"What does that even mean?"

"That seven year old boy that found you? That was me."

Emma stares at him, lightheaded and full to bursting with the instinctual desire to run away from this man, this stranger who is quite obviously insane. "I'm done listening to this-"

"The blanket was cream colored. Your name was in purple, and there was purple ribbon all along the edges." August takes a few steps closer to her, and Emma's panicking because her instinct, her superpower, tells her he isn't lying. "How would I know that if I wasn't there?" He waits for a response and, getting none, adds, "Though by the way, you weren't found on the highway. It was in the woods, and I lied about it."

At this bizarre pronouncement, Emma finds her voice. "Okay. Let's say you were that kid. Why lie about where you found me?"

"I lied to protect you."

"From what?"

"From the place where we really came through. From the truth."

"And w_hat _is the truth?" Emma demands.

August sighs and tilts his neck back, lifting his eyes. "Damn it. I wasn't going to do this yet I wanted…I wanted you to trust me first." After a moment, he lowers his head and meets her eyes. "But if you're right, if Regina has Graham…then we don't have time."

"Time for what?" She's whispering now. The air around Emma feels heavy, like she might collapse under it, and for some reason, whatever he's about to say terrifies her.

"You've read Henry's book. You know about the curse, your role in it. It's true, Emma. We both came into this world through an enchanted tree. We both escaped a curse."

Emma closes her eyes, shutting this out, shutting out the truth. "You're asking me to believe…that you're a fairy tale character."

"Pinocchio," he clarifies, like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"And Graham is…"

"The Huntsman. Henry says he remembered." For the first time, August's face softens into something like sympathy. "Did he never say-"

"He did." There's a catch in Emma's voice. "Just before, but I didn't…"

"You didn't want to believe it." It isn't a question.

"I don't know _how_ to believe it."

"Well, you have to figure that out." Without warning, August leans down and lifts up his pants leg, and Emma lets out a startled cry.

Everything from the middle of August's shin and below is made of wood, the transition from flesh seamless. And impossible.

"Wha…what is-"

"I'll explain that later. It can wait. What matters is that _you _understand that the curse is real, and that you're the savior."

This is it, the crushing, paralyzing fear she's been avoiding ever since Graham made claims of it: that Henry's stories aren't just stories.

There's a long, agonizing silence, and somewhere in that time, Emma finally believes it.

"Why me?" The questions slips out in a fragile, childish voice. "If we both came through, why can't you break the curse?"

"It isn't as easy as that. That's not how the curse works…I don't know how, or why, you were made the savior, but that's the way it is. It's got to be you, and only you." He steps closer to her, and only now does Emma see the desperate need swirling in his eyes. "Me, the town, _everyone_ needs you."

"I don't want them to need me!" It bursts out of her, thick with tears, and that's the crux of it: Emma Swan doesn't know how to be needed. She was slowly learning it, with Henry, and with Graham and maybe even Mary Margaret and David. But even that is slow and tentative and frightening. She isn't ready to be needed by an entire town.

"Well, that's too bad, because we all do," August insists, a little harshly.

"You're saying I am responsible for everyone's happiness? That is _crap_!" Emma's chest is heaving, her throat clogged with barely suppressed sobs. "I didn't ask for that, I don't want it."

"Right _now_," August shoots back. "A little while ago you didn't want Henry, either, but then he came to you and now you love him and he loves you and I bet anything you'd take him back in a second. And what about Graham, I bet you didn't always want him either, or at least you told yourself you didn't, and now you are fighting like hell for him-"

"_For him_," she repeats, her voice breaking apart in the middle. "Because that is all I can handle right now, and I'm not even doing a good job at that!"

"I'll help you!" August insists. "I will, why do you think Regina took him? She knows who you are, she knows what you can do to everything she's worked for…she needed to have something you loved, something she could threaten you with, and she doesn't want to use Henry."

Emma's thoughts tripping over each other, her head swirling with too many implications and realizations, and it's with great difficulty that she focuses on a single thought. "What are you saying?"

August looks down at her, something akin to relief seeping over his features. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, more collected. "I'm saying that she's going to hold him until she needs him. Until you start figuring out how to break the curse, and then she'll threaten to kill him if you don't do what she says and stop." He squints at her, like he's deciding something, then declares, "And you'll do it because you love him. And she'll probably end up killing him anyway. And you." Off the look on her face, August rubs his hands together. "So that means we need to find him now. So there's nothing to stop you from breaking this curse."

Slowly, painstakingly, Emma nods. When she speaks, her voice is scratchy and exhausted. "But you don't…know where he is or anything?"

"No. I'm sorry."

Emma nods for a long time, then asks in a small, shaky voice, "Can I just…can I maybe have a minute."

"Yeah, of course. Take a couple."

Emma walks unsteadily to the squad car and gets into the drivers seat. A glance at the window confirms that August is leaning against the wishing well, his back to her, giving her privacy.

So Emma drops her head against the steering wheel and cries.

She cries because she didn't believe Graham we he needed it. She cries because she didn't trust Henry. She cries because there is a town full of people who are depending on her, and she is still entirely sure she's the wrong person for the responsibility.

And she cries because, for the first time in her life, Emma knows who she is.

Twenty minutes later, when her eyes are raw and stinging, her chest convulsing painfully, August hesitantly taps on the passenger seat window.

She unlocks the door and he ducks into the car, handing her a cup of water without commenting on her appearance. "Drink that," he says in a careful tone. "You never know."

Emma sips the water because her throat is aching and her mouth is dry, rather than any belief in its mythical properties. Still, as she swallows it, a phrase from the plaque floats through her head.

_If you lose something precious to you…_

She focuses on Graham as the last few drops slide down her throat.

When the cup is drained, Emma breaks the long silence by asking, "So Mary Margaret and David, they're really…"

"Snow White and Prince Charming. Your parents."

"Did you know them?"

"A little. I was only seven, but my dad – you'd know him as Marco – was friends with them. He's the one who carved the tree we came through."

"I need you to tell me everything about it. About the curse and my...my _parents_."

So August does. Everything, including the deal his dad struck with the blue fairy.

"…so she told them that only one person could go through. They wanted to finish it before you were born, and send Snow through while she was still pregnant-"

"She…she and David…I mean, James…they were going to be separated?"

"Yeah. For you."

Emma's throat tightens, and she waves a hand at him to keep going.

~(OUAT)~

Emma shows up at school in the squad car that afternoon, instead of walking as usual, and she's quiet for most of the ride to the station. Henry keeps sneaking glances at her, his stomach knotting up tighter and tighter as he notices the puffiness around her eyes, the way her hands seem to be trembling.

She puts a hand gently on his shoulder as they walk into the station, and Henry's barely lifted Prince from Graham's desk chair when Emma asks, "Henry, can the queen do magic in Storybrooke?"

He lifts his eyes, taken aback by the question. "I dunno, really. I've never seen her do anything, or make anything happen that seems like it was magic, but that may be because she knows to hide it from me."

"So you don't know if magic can work here?"

"Well…Graham made you wake up. He said it wouldn't work because you were hurt by a bullet and not a curse, but it worked anyway. He kissed you and you woke up, just like Snow White."

Just like that Emma's vision blurs. "I didn't know that." She blinks hard, swallowing against the lump in her throat. "So you don't know of any place she might keep things from before the curse?"

Henry doesn't answer right away. He's staring at her with disconcerting scrutiny, and slowly, his eyes widen. "Emma…" Each syllable is practically trembling with excitement. "Do you….do you really believe in the curse now?"

After a heartbeat of hesitation, Emma crouches down on her knees so she can look Henry in the eye. "Yeah, kid, I do. I promise," she tells him seriously. "And I'm so, so sorry that I didn't bef-"

The rest of her words are lost as Henry throws himself against her so it hard it knocks the wind out of her. She hugs him back, tightly, and his words are muffled against her shoulder. "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! I told you, the hero never believes in the beginning, but I knew you would eventually-"

Emma smiles, the first real smile all day, and she gently disengages so she can look at him. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

Henry grins. "That's what makes it a good story."

She offers him a fist. "Operation Cobra?"

"Operation Cobra!" He pounds his smaller fist against hers, then digs his book out of his backpack, expression amusingly businesslike. "I talked to August. He believes in the curse, too, but he doesn't know how to break it."

"I know, he told me. But before we figure that out…Henry, we still have to find Graham."

He gives her a patented _duh_ look. "I know. So what do we do? Are you guys watching Sidney?"

"We are. And we can keep doing that. But, Henry…I'm worried that maybe Regina's getting wherever she's keeping Graham by magic. And that's why we never caught her."

"Hm…." Henry frowns in concentration. "Well, like I said, I don't know if she can still do it. But in the book the Queen _can_ just appear places. So if she can do magic, she could be going anywhere." After a pause, he adds, "But she can't take Graham out of Storybrooke. So it's not far…it just might not help to follow her."

Emma's eyes have drifted down, and she's staring at an illustration of the huntsman, a vague, cartoonlike rendering of Graham's features, and she brushes her fingers lightly against the page. "What about in the book? Is there anything you recognize, from your house or her office maybe?"

Henry's frown deepens. "I don't think so…." His voice trails off and he skims through the pages, and Emma is struck with a brief sense of surreality.

"Did Graham ever…did he ever recognize anything? Or did you two every talk about going anywhere particular to search for clues?"

"Not really…" The words have barely left his mouth when Henry's eyes light up. "When he first started remembering, he pointed at this…" His finger stops on a page. "He said he'd seen the symbol before."

Emma squints at it, suddenly certain that she's seen it, too, though she can't quite grasp the memory. "What is that?"

"It's the Queen's vault. Where she keeps hearts. Like Graham's."

An incredulous sound works its way out of Emma's throat, and she's immediately thrown back to that night in the cemetery.

Regina's father's grave…Graham's insistence that his heart was inside.

Regina had gone there a couple times during their surveillance of her, but they'd never found anything inside…

"Henry…do you think I could borrow the book tonight?"

~(OUAT)~

Emma gets back to the apartment that night with Henry's book tucked under one arm, and though she really should be, she isn't prepared for the sight of Mary Margaret, standing in the kitchen of their apartment, cooking and smiling warmly.

"Hey! Nothing so far on Sidney, but David's watching him now. I'm going to go back and take the night shift after we eat." Mary Margaret glances back at Emma for a reaction and immediately frowns. "Are you okay?"

Emma is standing there, rooted in place, staring at Mary Margaret like she's never seen her before. Her whole body feels precarious and fragile, like everything inside her has suddenly been pulled tight, straining close to the breaking point.

Out of nowhere, a single memory dredges itself up from the archives of her past, assaulting her with shocking clarity.

_She's six years old, in first grade, and she's waiting her turn for one the three coveted swings to open up. The girl in front of her in line suddenly lets one of her friends cut in behind her, relegating Emma one position back._

"_Hey, no cutting!"_

"_I'm not cutting."_

"_Yes, you are!"_

"_Nuh-uh. Becky let me in front of her and then I let her in front of me."_

"_That's not fair!" _

_With a child's indignation at bent rules, Emma shoves the girl in front of her, who immediately lets out a shriek. Becky turns around haughtily, superiority emanating from her carefully done braids and coordinated outfit. "You aren't supposed to hit."_

"_I'm telling!" Emma's victim gripes, pulling herself up._

"_Oh, don't, Jenny. She doesn't even know better. It's cause she doesn't have parents."_

"_I do so have parents!"_

"_No you don't, everyone heard you don't." _

"_I do so! I have a mom." For some reason, Emma thinks only inventing one parent will lend credibility to her lie. She will admit being one parent short. _

"_Nuh-uh."_

"_You're lying."_

"_Am not." Then she's describing her imaginary mother, an amalgam shabbily pieced together from characters in various movies that play in constant loop on the family room TV in her crowded foster home._

_Her mother can make clothes out of curtains, like in The Sound of Music._

_Her mother has really red hair, like in the Little Mermaid. _

_Her mother has a bag that can hold anything, like in Mary Poppins._

_Her mother tucks her into bed every night, like in Peter Pan._

_Her mother has sparkly red shoes, like in Wizard of Oz._

_And her mother sings with birds and talks to animals, like in Snow White. _

_By the time Emma's done, she's nearly forgotten why she started this description. She finishes in a soft, dreamy voice, "And also she loves me and gives really good hugs and she smells like flowers all the time. So THERE."_

_Jenny and Becky roll their eyes at each other. Jenny murmurs, "Suuuure." and after a moment, Becky takes her turn on the swing. _

_Emma wanders out of line, fixated on her own raptures, and she goes to hang upside down on the jungle gym instead, off in her own head, imagining whatever dastardly queen or witch or pirate is keeping her mother away from her…probably because her mother is the fairest of them all._

"Emma?" Eyebrows knitting in concern, Mary Margaret abandons her cooking to come into the living room toward Emma. "What's wrong?"

Emma shakes her head wordlessly, her throat too constricted to speak. She can't stop staring at Mary Margaret , trying to picture her the way August and Henry's book describes…the young mother heartbroken while making the ultimate sacrifice.

She's surprised how easy it is, just in this single moment, to reconcile that image with her best friend who took her in without hesitation, who sat at her hospital bedside, who she's already learned to look for in moments of fear or distress.

"Nothing." She finally manages to speak, though it's barely more than a breath.

"Emma, you're crying…" Mary Margaret's thumb brushes Emma's cheek, and she nearly buckles and breaks down under the soft, tender touch.

As it is, she pulls her roommate into a sudden, fierce hug, and Mary Margaret hugs back, slightly bewildered. "Honey, what happened?"

The endearment nearly cracks Emma in two, and a high pitched, whimpering note pulls itself from her throat. "Nothing, I…I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Mary Margaret murmurs soothingly, her palm rubbing smooth circles in Emma's back.

_She would've been a good mom._ The thought floats through Emma's head, unbidden, and on its heels comes a wave of longing and loss so powerful it nearly brings Emma to her knees.

"Whoa, okay…let's sit down."

They ease onto the couch and Emma tries to pull herself together. She's suddenly glad that David isn't here, sure that their dual presence may truly unravel her. "I'm okay," she says in a voice that's a quivering wreck. "Sorry, just….long day."

"You promise nothing happened?"

_Not nothing. Everything. _

"I'm okay," Emma repeats, not really answering the question. "You don't have to go watch Sidney tonight."

"I don't mind, Emma, David and I told you…we're not letting you kill yourself staying up every night."

"No, I know. Just…we don't need to watch Sidney anymore. I don't think he's part of it."

"Really? How do you know?"

"I just…I just think it's Regina. By herself. I don't know how yet, but…I'm going to figure it out tomorrow." Emma draws a breath, finally steady again. "Tonight…we should all take a night off."

"If you're sure…" Mary Margaret is watching her closely, concern laced in the smile she gives Emma. "Up for some lasagna?"

Emma gives her a smile that lights her eyes, and Mary Margaret's worry segues into relief. "Sounds awesome." Then, after a small hesitation. "Call David. Tell him to pack up the spy work and come eat with us."

~(OUAT)~

**A/N:** _ Woo. Okay. Sorry no Graham in that chapter, gang, but obviously a lot of important stuff happened. I meant to go a lot further with this chapter and get to some pretty significant Graham stuff (hopefully you can see that building here), but I was sort of drained of Emma and Charming Family feels by the end, and I ended up wanting that last scene, as well as the scene with August, breathe a little. So, should be a quick update as a result._

_A note about August…this is as significant as he gets to the story, and I hope everything that happened was clear. This merged the scene by the wishing well and the scene in the woods because, well, Emma's in a position where she's more likely to believe him, and he, knowing about Graham, can kind of gather that she might be a little more accepting and in a bit more of a hurry. Also, his leg is only partially wood because this happened sooner._


	13. Ghosts That We Knew

A/N: _Sorry for the delay on this chapter, things got unexpectedly busy. But as you'll see, things are speeding along now, and I'm really excited to write the next few chapters, so hopefully that'll translate into fast updates, time permitting. And thanks so much for reviewing, it really keeps me psyched about that story (shameless hint is shameless)._

_This chapter's song is "Ghosts That We Knew" by Mumford and Sons, a really amazing Graham and Emma song, both in canon and in this fic. _

Chapter Thirteen

_You saw my pain washed out in the rain_  
><em>Broken glass, saw the blood run from my veins<em>  
><em>But you saw no fault, no cracks in my heart<em>  
><em>And you knelt beside my hope torn apart<em>

_But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view_  
><em>We'll live a long life<em>

_So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light_  
><em>'Cause oh that gave me such a fright<em>  
><em>But I will hold as long as you like<em>  
><em>Just promise me we'll be alright<em>

Emma's in her bedroom when David arrives at the apartment, having been called off surveillance of Sidney. She puts her face close to the mirror, applying makeup to disguise the puffiness around her eyes.

She can hear Mary Margaret murmuring to David a low voice, and Emma can read the concern in her tone even though she can't hear the words.

Slowly, Emma draws a steadying breath, getting herself better prepared to see David than she was for Mary Margaret.

"Emma?" It's his voice, floating toward her from the kitchen.

She closes her eyes, remembering the morning she realized Graham was missing, David holding her in the floor of the sheriff's station, that glimmer of comfort that came from knowing, even in the worst possible moment, that at least she wasn't by herself anymore.

There's an ache somewhere in the center of her chest, the same tug of longing pulling at her.

She wishes she could have had them her whole life. Wishes are childish, especially retroactive ones, but she can't help it.

What if she could have run into her father's arms, be held like that every time she needed to cry and feel less alone?

But then, if she'd had them, she wouldn't have felt so lonely and lost and unwanted for most of her life.

Her throat narrows again, and Emma sighs in frustration.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret now. "Dinner's ready."

"Coming!" Her voice is slightly strangled, and she swallows hard, tightening her jaw. She's been holding it together for weeks searching for Graham, pretending she doesn't miss him so much it hurts to breathe, and she can damn sure hold herself together now.

Emma emerges from her bedroom, smile plastered on her face.

David's setting the table and Mary Margaret's spooning lasagna onto plates. The easy domesticity of it pulls Emma up short, and she stands there, staring stupidly at them until David looks up and sees her.

"Hey, Emma," he smiles warmly. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah." Emma's voice is a little higher than usual, but relatively steady. "I'm good."

She's quiet through most of the dinner, alternately sneaking glances at Mary Margaret then David, picking out the traces of her own features in their faces.

It's freaking them out a little; Emma can see it the quick looks they keep exchanging. Finally, after about fifteen minutes of stunted attempts at casual conversations, David finally asks, "Emma, what's going on?"

"Uh." She blinks at him. "Sorry, what?"

"Mary Margaret said you wanted to pull back on watching Sidney…did you find out something new?"

"No."

"Really? Because you're being all quiet, and Mary Margaret said you were upset-"

"David…" Mary Margaret says softly, resting a hand on his arm.

But he keeps his eyes on Emma, "If something happened you can tell us."

"David, she doesn't want to," Mary Margaret says. "Don't push her-"

"I'm not pushing her, but it seems like something's wrong and we should…"

He stops talking abruptly, and both he and Mary Margaret turn to look at Emma, who's laughing hysterically.

"Um. Emma?"

"I'm sorry…" She chokes out breathlessly between laughter. "It's just…you're my age!" The laugher redoubles, voice inching toward hysteria. "And you…you sound like my parents!" They just stare at her, identical expression of bewilderment. "But you're _my_ _age_, and I…I just really really want to talk Graham…about everything." The mirth fades slowly from her laughter, and it's a hollow, empty sound. "I just really need to talk to him, and I can't. So…" Finally, all traces of laughter dies, and Emma blinks dazedly at both of them, expression suddenly pained. "Sorry..." She stands and goes.

She's barely made it outside of the apartment building when someone bursts out of the door behind her. Not turning around to see if it's David or Mary Margaret, Emma insists, "I'm sorry, you can back inside…I'm okay."

"No, you aren't." David's voice, quiet and calm. "You aren't okay, Emma...and you don't have to be. You can't be." A beat, then, "You miss him."

Emma turns slowly and meets his eyes, the shade so close to her own. "I do," she admits softly. "I…most of the time I'm just terrified for him, and everything gets lost behind how scared I am that she's gonna do something to him, and I forget that I just…I just _miss_ him."

The thing is, she has found her parents. And she is confused and happy and heartbroken over that, and she can't tell them. They don't even know who she is, not really, and she can't tell them without sounding insane.

And Graham would know the perfect thing to say. He'd maybe even help her find out to make them remember, but until they did, he'd understand how great and terrible this is, all at once, and he'd know what to say.

"I need him here," she adds in a small voice.

David's eyes are so sad for her, and he shakes his head slowly, conveying his own helplessness. Then he's hugging her, and Emma practically melts against him…her dad.

"What do you need from me?" David asks her after a moment, pulling away to meet her gaze. His eyes are fierce and determined, like he understands that something has in fact happened, but he isn't going to push her anymore.

"I need to go somewhere. And I need to go alone."

Doubt flickers across David's expression. "Is it…is it safe?"

"Yeah. It's not far or anything, it's just…I have this feeling. I have this gut feeling, you know, that maybe I can find Graham and I need to look before I drive myself crazy."

"Okay…" David frowns, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "You're sure we can't come, just to keep a look out?"

"No." Emma's firm. "No, I need to do this."

"Okay." David accepts that, and she loves him for it. "Good luck. Call us if-"

"I will." She smiles, weary but grateful. "Tell Mary Margaret I'm sorry?"

"Sure."

"Thank you."

Then Emma gets into her car and drives to the graveyard.

~(OUAT)~

It takes Emma fifteen minutes to get out of the car at the cemetery. She's trembling, and trying to mentally talk down her own hope.

Ever since this afternoon, with Henry's book, she's had a feeling.

When they were surveying Regina, she went to the grave a few times. Emma and David had both looked around the small building, but found nothing unusual. And there was no reason to think tonight would be any different.

But Graham…Graham had been sure his heart was there, in that building. That feels like a lifetime ago, the first time Emma didn't believe him.

There is no reason to think that there is anything here that will lead her to him. But it's been hovering in her mind since Henry showed her the picture, and she's so, so afraid of finding nothing.

Finally, in a burst of determination, Emma gets out of the car and strides across the graveyard toward the mausoleum.

The night's cold enough that she can see her breath, in quick, uneven clouds of vapor. Emma zips up her leather jacket, fingers shaking as she does. When she reaches the correct grave, it doesn't take as long as it used to to force the door open. A few hard tugs and it gives way, the musty, stale smell of the small space rushing at her.

It's the same as it always looks: layers of dust, the empty shelves, the ornate coffin in the center. Emma remembers the first time she was here with him, Graham darting around, muttering about a hidden door and his heart.

Now, she makes the same sort of search, running her fingers obsessively over every inch of the place. Every wall, every surface. She paces the small space, her eyes roving from corner to corner as she gets increasingly panicked that this is just another dead end.

When she's been obsessively over the whole room three times, Emma stops pacing. Her legs feel weak underneath her, and she leans a hand against the coffin for support.

Her fingers trace the nameplate, running over the edges of the name Regina gave her son. For half a second, Emma feels a tug of guilt for disturbing a gravesite, but a second later, her eyes drift to the years and anger drowns any guilt.

Because at least Regina got to grow up with a father, before making sure that Emma never did.

A frustrated yell curls it's way up her throat, but by the time it gets out it sounds more like a sob.

She lost twenty-eight years with her parents. She lost a whole life, a better life, that she should have had.

And now Regina is taking Graham away from her, too, and Emma can't stand the fact she can't stop it.

She lowers her eyes. The slab the coffin is mounted on isn't bolted to the floor. Emma has moved it before, after the first time Mary Margaret tracked Regina here. She found nothing but the smooth, cool floor.

But now, having checked and triple-checked every other surface in the place, she braces herself and shoves the coffin aside again, just to be sure.

~(OUAT)~

Graham's nearly asleep, sitting with his back against the wall in the far corner of the cell, when he hears the telltale footsteps from somewhere above that means Regina's coming.

He's momentarily disoriented; his plate of food is still nearly full, and it feels like just hours ago that Regina had come by. But his sense of time is getting increasingly murky, so Graham barely dwells on it. He just slumps back against the wall, feeling himself shutting back down.

There's a lot more distant noises above him, and Regina never appears. Maybe he's imagining all of it.

But then, just when he's nearly drifted off again, he hears the creak that always proceeds footsteps, and then she's walking down the stairs toward him. He closes his eyes again.

~(OUAT)~

There are stairs.

They weren't there before. She's looked her before, and they definitely weren't. But they're here now, and everything in Emma's body seizes up.

For a second she can breathe, but then she pulls herself together and starts down the stairs. She can't see anything below but darkness, so she pulls out her cell phone, but the tiny screen only illuminates a few inches in front of her.

Her foot hits ground, and a hoarse, ragged voice says, "What do you want?"

Her heart stops.

"Graham?" Her voice is small and terrified, full of the last bit of terror holding her hope at bay.

There's a long beat of silence. She makes out a flash of movement in the corner, and she can see bars, a cell, and finally a figure, slowly getting up. Then, barely a breath, "Em?"

Her cell phone tumbles from her hand and a sob tears out of her. She feels like she's split in in the middle, and one half of her wants to run to him more than she's ever wanted to do anything, but the other half is making it physically impossible for her to move.

But her eyes are adjusting to the dim light, and she can see him as he comes to the front of the cell, his hands wrapping around the bars. The whites of his eyes seem huge in the darkness. Then, in that same hoarse, unused voice, he whispers, "Are you real?" and whatever is holding Emma still collapses.

She's in front of him in four quick steps, her hands closing over his white knuckled fists on the bars. His skin is so cold. "Graham…" Her voice falls to pieces but she keeps saying his name like it's the only word that exists, and she's crying and so is he. She lifts one of her hands to touch his face, the rough scratchy surface of an unkempt beard. "Graham."

He kisses her then, desperate and hungry and thankful. But every little movement puts the bars in their way, and finally Graham snakes his arm through the metal and threads his fingers through her hair.

"I love you," she tells him, the words tripping over each other like it's the last chance she'll have to tell him. "God, I love you…"

"I love you, too." Graham is afraid to even blink, and he's staring at her like she might dissolve right in front of him.

Emma meets his eyes, the storm of relief and joy settling slightly. "Did she hurt you?"

"No. Has she hurt you?"

Emma shakes her head, her throat too tight to speak. Graham traces his thumb down the tear tracks on her face, giving her a smile that seems to chase away the bone deep exhaustion on his features. "I knew you'd find me."

At that, Emma's face crumples. "I'm sorry…I'm so, so sorry."

"Hey…what are you sorry for?" That warm concern in his voice is so familiar it aches.

"I didn't listen to you, I left you in the station, and she-"

"No. Don't do that, Em. It's not your fault, I…I played right into Regina's hands, I handled all of this wrong." He pauses, then cautiously says, "Emma, you're…you're down here, does that mean…do you believe in the curse?"

She nods, voice thick. "I should've believed you." Then, making a visible effort to pull herself together, she says, "We can talk about that in a minute, I need to let you out of there."

"That may not be easy," Graham says.

Emma takes a step back, her eyes taking in her surroundings for the first time. The cell takes up about a fourth of the small, basement-like room. Two side are made up of smooth stone walls, with the other two sides made of bars stretching from the floor to the ceiling. There's no door, or locks.

"How did she get you in here?"

"I don't know," he answers softly. "Regina knocked me unconscious in the station…I woke up and I was here."

Emma's eyes flash with fury, hatred knifing through her. "Fuck her," she snarls under her breath.

"Em…"

Her face softens when he looks at her, and Emma reaches for Graham, wrapping a hand around the nape of his neck. "I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? I'll find something, a saw or a…a freaking blowtorch, and I'll get you out. I'll get Mary Margaret and David, they'll help."

"Yeah…" Some of the strength is returning to Graham's voice. "A couple of things about that. This place…it's the only place in Storybrooke where Regina can still do magic. I don't know what she's done to this cell, but a saw may not work on it."

Emma's face falls, but she clenches her jaw and nods resolutely. "I'll still try."

"I know you will." His smile is clumsy and unpracticed. "But, Em, about Mary Margaret and David…Regina says you can't see this place if you don't believe in magic and the curse. But I don't know if it's true."

"It is," Emma says, realizing. "I checked here before, a few weeks ago, and there weren't any stairs." She's quiet for a moment, the implications sinking in. "So they can't come down here. They don't know who they really are."

She can feel the weight of Graham's gaze on her. "But you do." He cups her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone lightly. "Are you okay?"

Sighing, Emma leans into his touch, feeling something loosen inside of her, never so grateful to have him. "I don't know," she tells him honestly. "It's…it's so strange. I've wanted this forever, Graham, for my whole life and now…they're _my_ age, they're my best friends and they….they don't even know." She lifts her eyes to his. "I really wish they knew."

"They will."

They're quiet for a moment, Emma letting herself revel in his presence and the inherent comfort he brings. Then, she grabs his hand and brings it to her lips, kissing his knuckles. "Thank you. But we'll worry about that later. Right now, I'm going to go, and I'll be right back with everything I can think of to get you out of here, and if that doesn't work we will…come up with another plan."

"Wait!" The word slips out unchecked, and for the first time Graham sounds like a lost, scared little boy, and Emma's eyes fill up instantly. "Don't…don't go just yet, Em. Please."

"Okay, okay…" She soothes him, her fingers stroking his stiff, tangled curls, and pulls him close to lean her forehead against his between the bars. "I won't go." He's shaking, and she can hear his breath coming out in short, desperate gasps. "Oh, babe…"

Suddenly Graham pulls back and straightens up, eyes huge. "Wait, no, you…you do have to go. Emma, if Regina finds you down here-"

"How often does she come down?"

"I…I don't know. It's hard to keep up." His eyes go glassy for a second. "What…how long has it been?"

"A little over a month." Emma's voice catches.

Graham nods, seeming to absorb this. Then, he snaps back to the moment. "Em, she could come. I can't let her find you here-"

"Let her come." Emma's face hardens. "I'll arrest her….if I don't kill her first."

"You can't, Em," he tells her dully. "You can't arrest her, you won't be able to prove anything to anyone else, they can't get down here."

Her fingers curl involuntarily into fists, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. She's found him, but it isn't over. "Damn it."

He touches one of her clenched fists, and she slowly unfurls it, threading their fingers together. "So you should go. And…before you come back with the…the saw, and the blowtorch, make sure Regina's busy."

Emma stares at him, reading the reluctance in his eyes, remembering the fragile fear in his voice when he told her to wait. "It's okay," she says finally. "Just give me a second, I won't go anywhere yet."

She searches the floor until she finds her dropped cell phone, and she dials.

After two rings, David answers, "Emma? Everything okay?"

She's surprised again by the visceral reaction to his voice, the way it hits her straight in the chest and triggers that ache of longing that's quickly becoming familiar. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, I just…I hate to ask you this but-"

"Don't worry about it, you can ask me anything. What do you need?"

"Could you maybe keep an eye on Regina tonight? It's the last time, I promise."

"Of course. I'll go right over."

"You don't have to follow her just…if she leaves, can you call me?"

"Sure." There's a pause, and Emma can tell David's holding back when all he says is, "You promise you're okay? You're safe?"

"I am," she answers quietly. Emma can feel still more tears rising up the column of her throat. "I promise. And thanks."

"It's not a problem."

"Um." Emma hesitates. "Can I talk to Mary Margaret?"

"Sure. I'll head over to Regina's now. Let me know if you need anything else."

"I will."

"Here she is."

Then Mary Margaret's on the line, worry threaded through her voice. "Emma?"

"Hey, Mare."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry about dinner."

"Don't be, I'm just glad you're okay. Where are you?"

Emma smiles unconsciously, holding the phone tighter. "Just following up on something Henry said. I think I'm getting close."

"To Graham?"

Emma looks over at him; he's watching her with a soft, tender smile on his face. "Yeah," she says softly. "To Graham."

"Do you need help?"

"I'll let you know if I do. I just wanted to apologize for earlier, for leaving like that."

"You don't have to apologize, Emma. Not to me."

They're quiet for a moment, Emma's throat too tight to speak. Finally, Mary Margaret says, "Just call if you need anything. No matter how late."

"I will. Thanks."

"Be careful."

"I will. Goodnight."

"Night."

Emma hangs up and slides the phone back in her jacket pocket before walking back to Graham. "David's watching Regina. So I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

"Thanks."

They smile wearily at each other, and then Emma reaches through the bars and touches Graham's chest, feeling the thud of his heartbeat, an old habit she fell into in their first few weeks together, right after his collapse in the sheriff's station.

"I really, really missed you," she says, her voice soft and fast.

"I missed you, too."

~(OUAT)~

"It's so weird, like there's this whole part of you that I don't know."

"You know me," Graham assures her gently. "None of that stuff…it doesn't seem as important anymore." He's quiet for a moment, his fingers absently tracing lines in her palm. Then, quieter, "Besides, you've read the book."

They're sitting on the floor as close as they can get with the bars between them, and Emma's just filled Graham in on everything about the past month, right up to August convincing her about the curse.

She thinks back to Graham's pages in Henry's book. "So it's true? Regina took your heart?"

"Yes."

"And that night, in the sheriff's station, your heart stopped…?"

He understands the implicit question. "It must've been her, yeah. She always said she'd crush it if I tried to get away. And the first time I saw her after...she played it off, but she didn't expect me to be alive."

Emma stares at him, struggling to wrap her mind around it. "Then how...how were you alive? What made it start beating again?"

"I don't know." Graham frowns. "I've wondered about that. Remember earlier that day, when you showed me my heartbeat?" Emma nods. "I was sure it was just the curse, creating the illusion, you now? Because in Storybrooke it wouldn't make sense for me not to have a heart. But…the whole point of it, of not having a heart, was that I couldn't feel. I didn't feel anything. But with you…with you I felt something. Right from the beginning." He smiles. "I don't know if it was the curse, the fact that I wasn't in an area with magic, or if it was just…you. But I lived."

"Thank God," she murmurs, realizing she doesn't care about the why. Then, hesitantly, "Over there, before…how long did she have you?"

His face darkens. "I lost track, I guess. Three or four years, maybe."

Emma's chest constricts painfully, and she's afraid to ask what Regina did to him during all that time. "I'm not letting her get away with it. She'll pay for that, Graham, and for this. I swear."

"It isn't just me she's hurt, Em," he says. "She wanted your mother dead more than anyone."

"Can you…tell me about, um…Snow?" The name sounds strange.

"Sure." And in his slow, easy way he tells her about Regina hiring him to kill her, the way Snow figured him out and ran, the letter, all of it.

"So I gave her a whistle, and told her it would bring her help if she needed it…I'd carved it so it played a specific note to the wolves. I felt bad, leaving her with nothing. She was a princess, and suddenly she'd be an outlaw, but I didn't know what else to do." He lowers his eyes, staring at the ground.

Emma hasn't said a word the whole story, but now she touches and his chin and makes him look up at her. "You know you're a hero, don't you?"

"I'm no hero," he counters solemnly. "I was going to kill her. I never should've gone."

"Doesn't sound like you had much choice. Graham, you saved her life, and you gave up yours for it."

"It was well worth it," he says in warm, tender voice that nearly does Emma in. "Otherwise, you'd never have existed. And what kind of life would that have been for me?"

There's nothing she can say to that, and Emma leans against the bars, wanting to be in his arms so badly it hurts. He kisses her, soft and sweet, and lingers for a moment before pulling back, expression serious again.

"So you see, Em, I'm not her only victim. She stole much more from others, including you. She took away your whole childhood. She divided your whole family, and probably others. She brainwashed the whole town."

"Graham. About the curse-"

"Don't apologize again," he orders gently: her explanation for the past month had been full of apologies for not believing him.

"I won't. But…I'm just wondering. If I'm supposed to break this curse…weren't you working on a plan to convince me, or something?"

He's quiet for awhile, then replies in a pained voice, "I know I was selfish, Em. It was about more than just…not thinking you'd believe it. I think I could've convinced you, if I planned it out better than I did that last night. But…I wasn't ready to think about it yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I knew as soon as you knew everything, you'd start working to break it. That's who you are, you'd…you'd have been the savior. But as soon as you did that, Regina would've had reason to hurt you. And she'd already done that." His voice catches. "I'd almost lost you once, Em, and I wasn't ready to do it again. I know this makes me a selfish bastard, but I didn't _want_ you to be the savior. I didn't want the curse broken if it meant she'd hurt you."

Emma's eyes hold his, and she thinks about August with his barely concealed desperation, his insistence that the whole town needs her. And it hits her that this whole time, Graham's known who she is and what she can do, and he doesn't care. He doesn't care that she's the savior, that she can be the one to get his vengeance on Regina.

He doesn't love her for being the savior. He loves her for everything else.

"I love you for that."

Graham smiles a little. "I guess it was easy for me to say…I got to remember who I was. You broke my curse."

"And _you_ woke me up," she says softly. "Henry told me."

His smile fades, remembering that day in the hospital. "I didn't think it would work," he admits, then quickly adds, "Because what happened to you wasn't magic, not because I didn't…" His voice trails off, a look of concentration settling on his face.

"Graham, what?"

"You can break their curse. Mary Margaret and David's. You can make them remember."

Emma inhales sharply, something swelling in her chest. She can barely get the question untangled from her throat, "How?"

"The same way you helped me."

Emma screws up her face, confused. "Um. What?"

Graham laughs at her, and the laughter feels good in his chest. "Okay, not the exact same. But…" He touches her chin gently, pulling her close enough to the bars so he can brush his lips against her cheek.

Emma draws back, uncertainty flickering across her expression. "I don't know, Graham…"

"Hey. Do you love them?"

Something about the question shakes her, and tears flood her eyes without warning. She's being asked if she loves her _parents_.

That was a question she never thought she'd be able to answer, and Emma's whole body goes weak. She leans forward, tipping the crown of her head against the bars. Immediately, Graham's fingers twine through her hair, and he kisses her just below hairline, waiting patiently until she says softly, "Yes."

"I know you do," he replies. "So it'll work." Slowly, she lifts her eyes to meet his, and Graham smiles softly at her. "And they'll remember you Em."

Her smile uncurls slowly, and impulsively, Emma reaches up and cradles his face in both hands. "God, what if I hadn't found you?"

Graham's knuckles slowly trace the length of her arm, like he's reacquainting himself with the simple feel of her, before he lifts her hand from his check and slides their fingers together. "I _knew_ you'd find me."

"We gotta stop doing this," Emma tells him softly, cracking a tiny smile. "This thing where we almost lose each other."

"Oh, I agree."

They hold on for a long, lingering moment, then Emma presses her lips to the back of his hand. "I gotta go. I'll be right back, with everything I can think of to get you out."

"Okay." Graham stands up, not letting go of her hand and helping Emma to her feet. "Make sure Regina-"

"I'll have eyes on her," Emma assures him.

"And if you see Mary Margaret and David-"

Emma cuts him off again. "I'm going to worry about you first." She touches his chest, an odd sort of dread knotting her stomach. She knows it's necessary, but she doesn't want to let him out of her sight. Finally, to herself as much as to Graham, she says vehemently, "I will be _right back_."

"I know." Graham cups her cheek and kisses her, long and sweet, and when it's over, he takes the first step back so she doesn't have to.

Emma starts backing away without turning or breaking eye contact. "I love you."

"I know." Graham smiles. "Me, too."

When she's at the top of the stairs, Emma repeats, "Right back."

And then he's out of her sight.

~(OUAT)~

It's raining when she remerges from the mausoleum, and her eyes take a moment to readjust to a different kind of darkness. It's less than two hours from sunrise and Emma wants Graham free and safe before the new day officially starts.

She feels lightheaded and panicked leaving him there alone, even though there's no reason to think anything will change before she gets back to him. Then there's the other fear, nagging at the back of her mind, that she won't be able to destroy those bars.

She doesn't want to think about that until she has to, but once she has the thought she won't let go.

Emma gets in her car and pulls off, trying to think of back up plans, just in case.

She could put a gun to Regina's head and make her let him out. But there's a catch to that, and Regina will know it. If Graham's held in by some sort of magic, Regina will be the only one to know how to let him out. So she'll know Emma won't kill her, that any threat is an empty one.

Torture. Maybe, but not if Regina's magic…and, anyway, the idea makes Emma feel vaguely nauseous. Still, if it came down to it…

Suddenly, she shifts her eyes forward, just in time to snap out of her distraction and swerve off the road, barely avoiding hitting a figure crossing the road.

The squad car skids to a stop in the shoulder of the road. "Shit." Emma gets out of the car, running toward where whoever she almost hit jumped out of the way.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

The man, thank God, seems to be alright. He stands up, at least, looking a little dazed. "I'm fine. Not used to sharing the road with cars so late."

Emma's heart rate is slowly returning to normal, but a chill crawls the length of her spine as she realizes what a close call that was. She could have killed the man. And even if she'd just hurt him, even slightly, Regina wouldn't hesitate to try to get her fired.

The man seems to sense her panic, and he smiles a little. "Don't worry, it's not like I can call the cops on you." Emma's face pales, and he hurriedly adds, "You're the sheriff, right?" He thumbs a hand at the squad car.

"Yeah."

"What brings you out here in the middle of the night?"

"Nothing to worry about, I'm just….looking for a lost dog." It's the first excuse that comes to mind.

"Well, hope you find it." He smiles, and Emma lets out a sigh of relief. He doesn't seem the litigating type.

"Thank you."

He starts off, but he's limping, and worry hits her again. "You _are_ hurt."

"I just twisted my ankle I think."

"Um…" Emma wrestles with herself momentarily, the need to collect tools and get back to Graham pulsing insistently. Finally, she offers, "Let me drive you, at least."

"I live just a mile down the road, I'll be okay."

He nods his head in the direction she's going, and with more conviction, Emma says, "Let me drive you. I insist." As long as it's on her way.

"Thank you."

She's more careful driving now, but she doesn't make small talk with the stranger.

Soon, he points. "This is me."

Emma stares through the window. Her mouth falls open. The house looks more like a hotel, and she isn't quite sure how she missed such a manor in Storybrooke before.

"You must have a big family," she tells him.

"Nope, just me," the man says in a flat voice. "Thanks for the ride." He throws her a grateful smile. "I'm Jefferson by the way."

"Emma." She hesitates, thinking. She's less than two miles from the graveyard. "Listen, this is…a weird question, but do you happen to have a saw?"

"Oh yeah," he says without missing a beat. "What size? Sharpness?"

"Something that cuts through steel?"

Jefferson smirks. "For your lost dog?"

He's limping up the stairs, and she comes up beside him to help. "Sure, let's go with that."

They reach the door, and Jefferson regards her. "Yeah, I got something that can help you out."

Before she can think about it, Emma asks, "You ever do any welding?"

Jefferson laughs, then opens the door and nods inside. "Why don't you tell me what it is you need, and I'll see if I can help you out."

"Most powerful saw you have would be good," Emma says, following him in. "And if you do any welding…blow torch, fire tongs, whatever."

"Hold on." Jefferson disappears, and Emma's a bit annoyed when he comes out with a tray of mugs. "Here, it's cold out there." She swallows her impatience and tries to look grateful. "You have that, and I'll track down your blowtorches and saw and all that other scary stuff I won't ask you about."

"Thanks." The hot tea does feel good on her chilled hands, and she sips it too eagerly, burning her tongue.

She paces the living room restlessly, silently acknowledging her luck. She hadn't been sure where to track down what she needs, and asking anyone she knows is sure to bring up awkward questions.

She hears Jefferson's footsteps coming back. She'll be back to Graham in fifteen minutes. And she has to believe that the next time she walks out of that graveyard, he'll be with her.

Then, suddenly, her vision darts to blur and tilt, and a moment later her legs go limp.

Another second, and then everything goes black.

~(OUAT)~


	14. This is Love

A/N: So. Quick update for y'all! Let's say this is in honor of a new episode later today, and of course these rumors about Jamie returning that's going to get my hopes up even though I don't want to get my hopes up. So. New chapter to distract myself. It's lengthy and some important stuff happens so...continue to let me know what you think!

Chapter Fourteen

_It's in the eyes of the children_  
><em>As they leave for the very first time<em>  
><em>And it's in the heart of a soldier<em>  
><em>As he takes a bullet on the frontline<em>  
><em>It's in the face of a mother<em>  
><em>As she takes the force of a blow<em>  
><em>And its in the hands of the father yeah<em>  
><em>As he works his fingers to the bone<em>

_...  
>This is why we do it<br>This is worth the pain  
>This is why we fall down<br>And get back up again  
>This is where the heart lies<br>This is from above  
>Love is this, this is love<em>

She wakes up on the couch with her hands and feet tied together, and the first thought that floats through Emma's head is, _Of course._

She's never been a trusting person. Years of being let down and left behind by others had always tilted her instincts firmly toward wariness. Better safe than sorry, and all that.

Except not today. She was too focused on getting back to Graham, too desperate and willing to accept help from a total stranger.

So of course. Of course he drugged her, tied her up, and is planning to do God knows what.

The first minute of awareness brings a lightheaded, dizzying panic where she's _certain_ he's going to kill her. He'll kill her, and Mary Margaret and David will never know the truth, and Henry will be left with Regina thinking no one loves him, and no one will know how to find Graham and he'll be trapped with Regina forever…

Then, logic and instinct kick in, and Emma sets about getting herself free.

Jefferson is nowhere to be seen, but he left the teacup behind, and Emma manages to stomp it into shards and use it to cut the ropes.

She starts moving quietly through the hallways, listening intently for Jefferson. She knows she should be getting out of the house as fast as possible, but when she passes a telescope set agaist a window, Emma can't resist looking to see what it's aimed at.

The sheriff's station. He's been watching her.

All of Emma's nerve endings jolt to attention as it sinks in that this wasn't some random encounter in the woods. He's planned this.

She has to get out of here.

Emma passes a partially opened door and can barely see Jefferson through the crack, sharpening some long, lethal looking scissors. She hurries past, eyes darting everywhere for some sort of exit or even a window.

Suddenly there's an ominous click behind her. "Off to look for your dog?"

She whirls around. Jefferson's leaning against the doorway, a gun in his hand, smirking at her.

"I've already called for backup, they'll be here any second," Emma says immediately, her whole body tensing.

"Oh, really? What'd you call with?" Jefferson reaches into his back pocket and pulls out her phone, holding it tauntingly. After a pause, it starts to ring. "Oh, it's been doing that a lot." He takes a step closer so she can see the screen.

_David Calling._

Emma stares at his name for a moment, her chest constricting painfully, and then Jefferson puts the phone back in his pocket. "You haven't called anyone. And your little…blowtorch and saw mission sounds pretty covert." He grins, triumphant. "So I'm guessing no one knows you're here."

She has no answer for that, and Jefferson finally steps close and jabs the gun in her back. "Come with me."

Emma walks stiffly forward, the gun in her back guiding her. "Why have you been spying on me?"

Jefferson stops and steps in front of her, narrowing his eyes at her. "Because for the last twenty-eight years I've been stuck in this house, every night, always the same, until _you_ – " he jabs the gun at her for emphasis "and your little yellow bug roll into town, and the clock ticks, and things start to change."

Emma can't keep the shock from her expression.

"You see, I know what you refuse to acknowledge. You're special. You brought something precious to Storybrooke. Magic."

For a moment, she can only stares at him, struggling to comprehend. "You mean…this is about the curse?"

"Yes, t_he curse. _The one keeping us all trapped. All except you." He grits his teeth, anger settling over his face. "The curse you refuse to acknowledge, even though it's all staring you right in the face. Even though you're the only one who can break it."

Emma ignores that, eyeing him challengingly. "If you're cursed…how do you remember? Why didn't the curse take your memories like everyone else?"

The slightest bit of surprise flashes in his eyes, but Jefferson only says cryptically, "My curse _is_ to remember."

"Are you saying…." Emma pauses, trying to conceal the eager note in her voice. "Are you saying you know how to break it?"

Jefferson scrutinizes her for a moment, then shoots Emma a twisted smile. "Well, well. Maybe you aren't as blind as I thought." He steps uncomfortably close. "Maybe the sheriff's disappearance finally woke you up."

Emma tightens her jaw, anger gripping her, but the gun keeps her still. "Just answer the question. Do you know how to break the curse?"

"No," he says immediately, uncaring, and Emma barely suppresses the urge to slap him.

As it is, her voice is practically a snarl, "Then _what_ do you want?"

"I want you to get it to work."

At that ambiguous pronouncement, Jefferson grabs her arm and pulls her into a room, where he forcibly shoves her into a chair. Emma glances around; the table in front of her is covered with an odd array of sewing items.

"Want me to get what to work?"

He grabs a worn, old fashioned top hat off the table and sets it in front of her. "You're the only one that can do this. You're going to get it to work. You _aren't leaving _until you get it to work."

Emma's quiet for a moment, picking up the hat and turning it over in her hands, thoroughly confused. "Then what?"

"Then I go home."

Emma looks up at him over her shoulder. "What does it do?"

A pained look flickers across Jefferson's face. "It _used_ to be a portal. Between worlds. But here it doesn't work…only _you _can make it work."

"I…I can't make it work," she says softly. "What you're asking is impossible. I…I'm not magic."

"YOU ARE!" He's yelling now.

"No, I'm not," she says quickly. "Okay, I'm supposedly some…some savior. But I have no idea how to break the curse, even, much less make your hat-"

"_Yes_ you do, you have to!" He starts pacing, hands tearing at his own hair, the look in his eyes desperate, almost crazed. He keeps the gun in his hand, rubbing it absently against his own skull. "I have to go back, it's the only way to go back…"

Emma's stomach is in knots, her heart thudding painfully, but she manages a calm, rational tone, "Why would you want to go back alone, anyway? If everyone else is still trapped, there's nothing there…"

Jefferson stops pacing and stares at her wildly. "Because like everyone else here, what I love has been ripped away from me. And the only way I can get it back is to be there. Look." He pulls Emma roughly to her feet and guides her to another telescope, aimed at the window of a house. Inside a little girl eats dinner with a family. "Her name is Grace. Here it's Paige, but it's Grace." Every syllable of his voice is heavy with anguish.

"She's…your daughter?"

"I remember. She has no idea who I am. Our life together, where we come from…but I do. That's my curse."

"To remember," Emma says quietly, parroting his earlier words. She sighs. "Have you…have you tried just telling her?"

He makes a scoffing sound. "And destroy her reality? I'm trapped by knowledge. You think I'd inflict that awareness on my daughter? I'm not that cruel. It's hard enough to live in a land where you don't belong, but knowing it? Holding conflicting realities in your head….it will drive you mad."

Emma's quiet, processing this man and his situation. For twenty-eight years, he's watched his child with another family. In spite of herself, she can feel a twinge of sympathy.

"So that's why you want me to make the hat work? You just want to take Grace home? To…your world?"

"It's the one world where we can be together," he says softly, sorrow etched on his face. "Or she'll never know who I am."

Emma's throat tightens, and she thinks of Henry. "Look...I know what it's like to be separated from your kid."

"Yeah. You do, don't you?"

"But…have you really thought about this?"

"Of course I have."

Emma meets his eyes, arching an eyebrow. "Have you? If you go back through the hat, and the curse hasn't broken…how do you know it'll restore Grace's memories?"

His face falls. "It…it has to…"

"And how do you know there's anything left? If she cursed your world, how do you know it's still intact?"

"I…" There's panic descending on Jefferson's features now.

"I wasn't lying, Jefferson," Emma tells him earnestly. "I don't think…I haven't seen any evidence that I have magic. But…" she hesitates. She can use this; maybe if she helps him, he can help her with Graham. "I know a place where magic still exists in Storybrooke. The hat might work there but…you're still risking a lot."

Jefferson is pacing again, his expression utterly conflicted. I

After a moment's silence, Emma says firmly, "Or. You could wait." He whips his head up, looking at her like she's insane, but she continues, "I am going to do everything I can to break this curse." She's surprised by the strength of her conviction. In spite of her talk with August, everything he told her…this is the first time Emma's really thought of the curse outside of herself, her parents, Henry, and Graham.

August with his skin slowly turning to wood. Jefferson and his separation from his daughter.

How many other stories are there? People who've been dealt tragedies and just aren't aware of it?

Jefferson seems to be deliberating. After a long silence, he visibly wilts, and sinks into his chair. "You're right," he mutters, tone utterly defeated. "You're right there's…there's no reason to assume she'll get her memories back just from being there. The curse will still exist, it's still on us." After a moment, Jefferson lifts his head, eyes hopeful. "Maybe if we took her to the place with the magic-"

"She can't," Emma informs him, voice apologetic. "No one can see it if they don't believe."

"Damn it." Jefferson's head drops. Another silence settles, then, he grits out quietly, "I'm sorry. About the gun, and the drugging…"

"Yeah. Well." Emma shrugs, not interested in forgiving him for that. Then, she softens, admitting, "I know how you feel. About wanting Grace to remember." He looks up at her, expectant. "My parents. They have no idea who I am."

"Right." He studies her, then seems to make a decision, putting the gun down on the table and standing up. "So. You have no leads on how to break the curse? Your boy, his book doesn't-"

"No, it doesn't say anything."

"You should talk to Rumplestiltskin. I guarantee he's the one who made the curse and sold it to Regina."

"Who's that?" Emma makes a face, correcting herself, "I mean, who is he here?"

"No idea." Jefferson smiles grimly. "I don't get out much."

"Right." Emma pauses, choosing her words carefully. "Listen. I need a favor. To make up for the gun and the drugging and everything."

"What?"

There's another beat of hesitation, and then Emma opts for blunt honesty. "Regina has Graham. And I won't even try to break the curse as long as that's the case. I won't let her use him against me, I'm not risking his life. So before I do anything, I need to make sure he's safe."

"So what do you need from me?"

"Any chance you actually have that saw and blowtorch?"

~(OUAT)~

Twenty minutes later, the squad car is loaded down with equipment, and Emma has her phone back, now with six missed calls from David and four from Mary Margaret.

She texts them back to say that she's fine, and David quickly responds to assure her that he's still watching Regina. The sun is up by now, and Emma responds with profuse apologies, telling him she won't be much longer.

Emma's arms are full of scary looking equipment when she gets to the cemetery, and it takes her longer to get it transferred into the mausoleum and push the coffin aside to the newly revealed stairs.

Her whole body goes weak relief when she sees Graham again, as if a part of her was worried she'd imagined the whole thing.

His face collapses with relief when she appears at the base of the stairs. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sorry it took so long. Got held up finding all this." She puts her supplies on the ground and waves a hand at it.

"Where'd you get it?"

"Long story. I'll fill you in once I get you out of here." She kisses him gently through the bars, touching his face and smiling. "Which will be soon. One of these has to work."

She can see the worry in his eyes, but he smiles back at her. "Thank you."

Emma nods, then steps back, rubbing her hands together in a business like manner. "Okay." She lifts up an electrical saw, and slaps on the plastic goggles Jefferson had given her. "You might want to stand back, and turn around."

Graham can't help but grin at the bossy tone. "Yes, ma'am." He moves to the far corner of the cell and faces the wall, like a kid in time out.

Drawing a deep breath, Emma turns on the saw. It roars to life, and she presses the blade against the steel bars, the high pitched whir of metal on metal overwhelming the tiny room. After a second, she pulls the saw away from the bar so she can look at it.

There's not a scratch. No evidence that it was even touched.

Gritting her teeth, Emma turns up the power and shoves the spinning blade harder against the bars, pressing as hard as she can. She holds it there for a good two minutes, well aware that nothing seems to be changing under the pressure.

When she moves it again, her heart sinks. Still not so much as a scratch, much less a dent.

Graham turns around then, a sort of resigned disappointment on his face. He shouts above the noise, "Em, it's okay…"

She turns off the saw and tosses it unceremoniously to the ground, swallowing her frustration. "I'll try the blowtorch," she says calmly.

"Em, if it's been protected by magic-"

"No," she cuts him off sharply. "No, something will work, the saw must've been too dull…"

She grabs the plastic handle of the blowtorch, holding it tightly so her hand doesn't shake. Graham nods and obediently returns to the corner, tough this time he doesn't turn around, just leans against the wall and watches her.

Emma presses down on the switch and the small blue flame shoots out of the front. She holds it against the steel, choosing a different bar as if that might make all the difference.

She holds it there for two minutes. Three. Five. There's no change on the metal, and Emma's knuckles get progressively whiter as she grips the handle. She impulsively lifts the flame away and touches a finger quickly to the metal bar.

It's cool to the touch.

Emma lets out a strangled, frustrated yell and hurls the blowtorch against the far wall, and in the next second she's slamming her fists against the jail bars, screaming, "Come on come on C_OME ON_!"

"Em, Emma…hey, it's okay…Em…" Graham reaches through the bars and grabs her by the wrists. When she stops fighting him and collapses against the bars, half gasping, half sobbing, he lets go and gently wraps his arms around her the best he can. "It'll be okay…."

"I'm sorry." Her voice is shaking. "I'm so sorry, Graham…"

"Don't be." He kisses the top of her head. "We'll figure something out, okay?

She lets a hollow laugh. "How am I supposed to figure out how to break a fucking curse when I can't even break a fucking jail cell?"

Graham doesn't say anything for a moment, just grazes her cheekbone with his thumb, knowing there's nothing he can say to make her feel okay about not being able to help him.

Finally, when Emma lifts her eyes, full of apology, to meet his, he says simply, "You're here. That's enough for right now."

"But-"

"It is," he insists. "We'll figure it out. We knew this might happen, and in no way is it your fault."

Emma closes her eyes. She is so tired, and she should be going to work, but what is she supposed to do? Just walk away and leave him here, with no reassurance that she'll be able to get him out?

Graham seems to read her thoughts. "Em, you should sleep."

She shakes her head. "I'm fine."

He sighs skeptically, but doesn't push it. Instead, he says, "Well then you should go find Mary Margaret and David. Help them remember." He pauses and, when she doesn't reply, adds, "They may be able to help. They knew a lot more about this stuff than me."

She looks up at him, curiously. "They aren't, um…magic, are they?"

He laughs a little. "No. Most people aren't."

This reminds her of something Jefferson said. "Did you know Rumplestiltskin, before? Any idea who he might be here?"

Graham frowns. "No, I never saw him. Heard of him, though. Not sure you want to trust him, though, based on reputation. Why?"

"It's been suggested that he might be the one who created the curse for Regina."

"Not a bad thought. I don't really know much about how the curse was enacted…if I wasn't out working on her guard, Regina usually kept me locked in one of the bedchambers." Emma winces, and Graham drops his eyes, flushing. "I'm sorry, I'm not much help."

Hatred burns in Emma's chest: Regina had Graham completely under her control, had stolen his whole life, and he's apologizing like he did something wrong. "That is _not_ your fault," she tells him fiercely. "It's all _her_."

Graham takes her hand and squeezes his, gratitude shining in his eyes. Then he says, "You can go, Em. Really. Help your parents."

Reluctantly, Emma nods. "I'll be back with them. Soon." She pauses. "And Henry. God, he'll be glad to see you."

Graham's smile is automatic. "I want to see him, too."

"Okay." Her eyes land on the plate of food that's been shoved under the bars: a few stale pieces of bread and half of an apple. Emma's eyes flash, her rage flaring fresh. "And I'll bring you something decent to eat."

He smiles. "Thanks."

She stops halfway up the stairs. "Graham?"

"Yeah?"

Turning to face him, Emma asks in a small voice, "What if it doesn't work? What if…they don't remember?"

"They will." His whole face softens. "I did."

~(OUAT)~

Emma calls David and lets him off the hook watching Regina, and she tells him to go get some sleep. She has two calls back to back almost as soon as she gets back to the station – a possible break in (that is more likely just a door left open) and a car hitting a mailbox – which kills a few hours before Mary Margaret and Henry get out of school.

She's waiting for Henry outside the school at the usual time. His grin seems wider than usual when he runs over to her, and right away he asks, "Did you figure anything out in the book."

"Kinda," she says with a smile. Emma crouches down so she's level with him. "I found Graham."

Henry gasps, his eyes widening, "You did?"

"Yeah, he's okay." Then, she repeats, to herself, "He's okay."

Henry hugs her, nearly knocking Emma off balance on the sidewalk. "I knew it! I knew you'd save him. Just like he saved you at the hospital, and before that you saved him at my house, and before _that _he saved Snow, which is practically like saving you-"

"Well I haven't saved him. Not yet."

As they walk home, she tells Henry about finding Graham in the cell where there's magic, that she hasn't been able to get him out. "But I will," she tells him resolutely. "I promise."

"I know," Henry says, unworried. "All spells can be broken. And you're the savior."

Emma smiles a little, pulling him to a sideways hug as they walk.

After a bit of companionable silence, Henry glances around, seeing that they've passed the station. "Are we going to see Graham?"

"Not yet. We're going to go meet Mary Margaret at the apartment." Emma's chest is fluttering with nerves. "There's something I wanna try, to maybe get her to remember."

"_Really_?"

"Don't get your hopes up," Emma tells him with a thin smile. "It was Graham's idea."

"Okay. Then can we go see him?"

"Of course. I told him I'd bring you."

Henry grins. "Can we bring Prince, too?"

Emma smirks. "Sure. If he believes in magic, I guess."

"He does. He's Prince Charming, remember?"

She thinks of David, and how soon he may remember _he's_ Prince Charming, and Emma's chest tightens again. "He is."

~(OUAT)~

Since they walked the long way from the school, Mary Margaret's already at the apartment when Emma and Henry get there.

Her shoulders drop in obvious relief as soon as she sees Emma. "Hey."

Suddenly shy, Emma nearly whispers, "Hi."

Mary Margaret smiles at Henry, mock surprised. "Henry, I haven't seen you in so long!"

"I know, it's been almost twenty minutes," he replies. He looks up at Emma, then, expectantly.

"Um, Henry, you want to take Prince to play in my room? I need to talk to Mary Margaret."

"Sure." Smiling, he scoops the cat up from his place on the couch, mouthing, "Good luck" at Emma before he closes her bedroom door behind him.

Immediately, Mary Margaret's eyes settle on Emma. "Everything go okay?"

"Yeah, it did."

"Good." To Emma's surprise, Mary Margaret comes forward and hugs her. "And you're okay? I was worried."

"I know, I'm sorry." Emma's replies, her voice high and tight. She should just do it now, but she feels paralyzed. "And I'm good."

Mary Margaret holds on for a long moment, then pulls back to look at Emma. "Sure?"

"Positive." Mary Margaret smiles, then starts to step away, but Emma stops her, a catch in her voice, "Um, Mare?"

"Yeah?"

"Just…I wanted to thank you again. For everything you've done since Graham disappeared. And after I got shot. Really just since I met you, you've been…you've been amazing."

"Emma…you don't have to thank me. That's just what friends do."

"Yeah, see that's the thing though, I never really…" Emma takes a shaky breath. "I wouldn't know that. Most of my life, I've been alone. No one had ever been there for me before you, and I just…it's really nice to feel like I have some sort of family."

Mary Margaret's blinking rapidly, her eyes sparkling with tears as she smiles. "Family?"

Her voice is barely steady now, so Emma just rushes out, "Yeah, so I just wanted to say thanks."

She pulls Mary Margaret in for another hug, and as she does, she kisses her mother softly on the cheek.

It's just like with Graham; Mary Margaret's eyes widen, and she jerks back from the hug as if electrocuted. For a second, there's a dazed expression on her face, and then, an agonizing moment later, she seems to snap back, eyes huge and chest heaving.

"Oh my God..." She lifts her eyes and they settle on Emma's terrified expression.

And Mary Margaret's whole face melts into an expression of tenderness and joy that nearly does Emma in.

Without a word, Mary Margaret wraps her arms around her daughter, tears streaming steadily down her cheeks. Her voice is thick with tears when she says reverently, "You found us."

Emma squeezes her eyes shut, hugging Mary Margaret back just as fiercely. Tears clog her throat, and she couldn't speak even if she knew what to say.

Mary Margaret pulls back slightly, staring at Emma like she's trying to memorize her face. "Oh, honey…oh, it's you…." She touches Emma's face, her hair, her hands, just verifying that she's real. Then, "You know?"

Emma nods silently, and Mary Margaret hugs her again. Her heart feels like it's too big for her chest. It's like she blinked and her baby girl grew up.

Without her.

The door to Emma's bedroom cracks open, and Henry tentatively emerges. He meets his teacher's eye over Emma's shoulder. "Grandma?"

The absurdity of the title makes her laugh, and Mary Margaret steps back, keeping one arm around Emma. "Yeah, I guess so."

Henry runs and hugs them both at the same time, and they stay like that until he pulls back and says, "Now let's go get Grandpa."

"Oh, God, Charming…" Mary Margaret's face breaks into a luminous smile. She looks at Emma. "Your….your dad, we should-"

"I know," Emma says shakily. "He's next on my list."

Mary Margaret sighs, reaching up and cupping Emma's face, still staring at her in something akin to awe. "Oh, sweetheart, I…I don't even know what to say." Her eyes fill up again, a thousand comments Emma's made over the time they've known each other rushing back to her. "I'm so, so sorry."

Emma ducks her head, tears finally spilling over. She brushes at them impatiently.

Because there is a part of Emma that wondered: what if they hadn't sent her away? If her parents had been willing to forget about her being the savior, forgot about breaking the curse, and just kept her with them, no matter what was coming.

But she thinks of Jefferson, separated from his daughter. Of August, whose father sent him away to protect him even though he'd have nothing to do with breaking the curse. Of what August had told her, that Mary Margaret and David – _Snow and J_ames – were going to split up so one of them could go with her, but it was too late.

And so Emma means it when she says, "No, don't be." She glances down at Henry and gently touches the top of her son's head before looking back at Mary Margaret. "You wanted to give me my best chance."

~(OUAT)~

David opens the door to his apartment and is pleasantly surprised to see all three of them standing. "Well, hi-" He's barely gotten to syllable out when Mary Margaret hugs him hard. "Whoa, hi." He pulls away after a moment, eyebrows knit in confusion. "Everything okay?" Then, he frowns, "Have you been crying?"

She waves a dismissive hand. "Everything's great." Her eyes are sparkling, and she's looking at him like she hasn't seen him in years.

Emma watches them, Henry grinning beside her. She's got that same fluttering of nerves again, and she can't take her eyes off David's face.

Mary Margaret finally relinquishes her hold on him, and the four of them go inside David's small apartment. He's barely unpacked, due to spending almost all his nights since his divorce at Mary Margaret and Emma's pace instead of here.

"You guys sure everything's okay?"

"We're all good." Mary Margaret puts a hand on Emma's back, gently edging her forward. "Emma wanted to talk to you."

David smiles warmly at her. "Sure. Everything go okay last night?"

She nods mutely, already on the brink of tears again. Finally, she says in a strangled voice, "Um, yeah. Sorry to make you do that. Two nights in a row, God…"

"Hey, I told you it's no problem. Just hope it helped."

"It did." Emma goes quiet again, aware of all their eyes on her. Too self-conscious and emotionally raw for a speech, she finally just blurts out, "That's um…really great of you…"

The concern in his eyes is growing. "Emma-"

"Thanks," she whispers, and then she's leaning toward him, a hand on her shoulder as her lips brush his cheek.

David reels back, eyes huge. It doesn't take as long for him, and then he snaps back into himself. His eyes soften and he stares at Emma like he can't believe what he's seeing.

"Emma?" It sounds like no one has ever said her name before, like he's the first person in the world to ever utter it.

He glances at Mary Margaret as though looking for confirmation. She's crying again, smiling through her tears and she nods at her husband. "She found us."

David moves in slow, almost dazed motion toward Emma, and then he wraps his arms around her without saying a word. After a moment, Mary Margaret joins them, and Emma thinks she feels Henry's hand somewhere on her back, and for a second she feels like her heart might burst with the added volume of _family_.

~(OUAT)~

David and Mary Margaret are staring.

Emma's spent the last half hour sitting in David's minimally furnished living room, filling them in on everything: how long Graham's known, what August told her, finding Graham, Jefferson, everything. And they just stare.

Which makes sense, since she's basically delivering a monologue. But sometimes the staring isn't 'listening intently' staring, but a sort of faraway, dreamy stare that makes her want to ask if they're listening.

But when she finishes, David nods immediately and says, "So our next step is to get Graham out."

"Yeah. And I don't know how, nothing I tried worked on it-"

Mary Margaret and David exchange a look. "Gold," she says immediately, and he nods.

"Who's Gold? I mean, who was he...there?"

Henry, who's been playing with Prince on the floor, looks up in interest, "Yeah, who is he? I could never figure it out."

"Rumplestiltskin."

Henry groans, long and dramatic. "Oh, man, I should've known that."

Emma raises her eyebrows. "Jefferson suggested I ask him about breaking the curse. Said he may have been the on to create it."

Mary Margaret and David look at each other again. "That wouldn't surprise me at all."

"Will he help us?" Emma asks skeptically.

David answers this time, "He doesn't usually discriminate who he helps…but there's always a price."

"And if he did create the curse for Regina he had a specific reason for doing it," Mary Margaret puts in knowingly. "And for making sure there was a savior."

Emma shakes her head a little, disconcerted by how she can already sense subtle shifts in their personalities.

David claps his hands together. "Alright. Let's go see Gold."

Emma shakes her head. "I've left Graham for too long. I promised to bring him some real food, and I want to make sure he's okay."

"And I want to see him," Henry reminds her.

"We'll all go." Mary Margaret stands, too. "One of us can stand guard in the cemetery for Regina…if she comes by, she won't go in if we're there."

Emma nods. "Just don't let on that you remember."

"Of course."

~(OUAT)~

They stop by the diner to pick up food for Graham, and Mary Margaret has to resist the urge to circle the counter and hug Ruby. As it is, she and David are smiling so wide the waitress is definitely a little weirded out by the time she gives them the order.

When they reach the mausoleum at the cemetery, Emma looks back at all of them when she shoves the coffin aside. "You see these stairs, right?" They all nod, and Emma's oddly relieved.

"You guys go ahead," David says. "I'll hang around outside."

"Me, too," Mary Margaret puts in immediately.

"Thanks," Emma says, realizing they probably want some alone time to talk. "C'mon, kid."

Henry, Prince in his arms, bounds down the stairs eagerly, and Emma follows him.

David slips his hand into Mary Margaret's, and the two of them walk outside of the mausoleum. As soon as they're outside, she nearly collapses against him. "Charming…" Her voice, murmuring the old, old nickname is muffled against his shirt, and his whole body goes weak with relief.

"Snow." He kisses the top of her head and tightens his grip on her, the hug as tight as possible. "God, I missed you. Without even knowing it, I missed you."

She doesn't reply, and they hold on for a long time until he feels her shaking, a wetness soaking through to his skin. "Snow?" She looks up, tears dripping down her cheeks as she chokes back sobs. "What's wrong?"

"Emma…"

His face twists. "I know."

"David, some of what she's said to me…damn it, it just breaks my heart."

He closes his eyes, expression pained. "We had no idea what we were sending her back to…we'd planned on you going with her, and there wasn't time to think. And now…"

Mary Margaret nods, picking up his train of thought. "_Foster_ _homes_. Charming, our baby girl she…she grew up with no one…" She draws a shuddering breath. "You've seen her, it's like she can't even comprehend the fact that people care about her. _We_ did that, _we_ sent her away…"

"We didn't have a choice," he says thickly, like he's trying to convince himself. "They were going to kill her." He remembers the clash of swords, a dozen men coming at him at once, all after the precious newborn in his arms.

"I know. I do know that but…God, what did we think we were doing? She was less than an hour one, what did we think sending a baby away-"

"Snow…"

"I _know_ we didn't have a choice. I _know_ it was better for her, that if she'd been cursed she'd have been stuck forever as a newborn, and I doubt she'd even be with me, and you would've never woken up from that coma but damn it , James, it isn't fair." Her face crumples, and she falls apart completely as she gets out the words, "Why her? Why _our_ daughter, why is she the one who has to do this?"

David pulls his wife against her, tears running unchecked down his own face. "I don't know," he murmurs, voice cracking. "I don't know."

~(OUAT)~

"Graham!"

Henry runs at the cell and pulls up short as he reaches the bar, as though he'd failed to plan out what to do when he got there.

Graham smiles warmly, sticking his arm out of the bar and giving Henry a complicated sideways hug. "Hey, buddy." Emma's heart catches to hear the familiar greeting he saves for her son.

"I'm really glad you're okay." Prince is practically clawing on Henry's shirt trying to get to Graham, and the boy relinquishes the cat. Graham's eyes light up as the cat walks easily through the bars and looks up at Graham, begging to be picked up. He obliges.

"So am I." The cat starts purring immediately, and Graham lifts his eyes to meet Emma's, and he squeezes her hand in greeting. "Hey, you."

"Sorry it took so long." She passes him the bag. "We'll take the trash when you're done, don't worry." She pauses, then says quietly, "Mary Margaret and Daivd are outside, keeping an eye out for Regina."

Graham looks up from perusing the contents of his dinner and meets her eyes. "It worked?"

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"I think so." She smiles, feeling bone weary from the emotional highs and lows of the day. "It's a good thing."

"It is," he agrees. Graham sits then, and Henry does the same as Graham turns his attention to the boy. "So, bud, looks like part one of Operation Cobra was a success, huh?"

As Henry begins enthusiastically filling Graham in on Emma getting his grandparents to remember, Emma watches the two of them.

They'll go see Gold after this. But she's starting to worry, that maybe he'll know how to break the curse but won't know, or care, about getting Graham out.

Her chest tightens painfully, and Emma thinks about Jefferson's hat. It could work here. It could pass through the bars of Graham's cell, as easily as a cat or a bag of food.

If it comes down to it, if she can't get Graham out to her…she at least has to get him away from Regina. She meant what she said the Jefferson: she doesn't even want to think about breaking the curse until she's sure Graham's somewhere Regina can't hurt him.

And if keeping him safe means she has to let him go for awhile…then that's what she'll do.

~(OUAT)~

A/N:  Let me know what you think! The next two chapters are the ones I've been dying to write since the beginning of this story, so motivate me to do it fast!


	15. Demons

_PARTICULARLY IMPORTANT TO KEEP IN MIND THIS CHAPTER__: This story was started and planned out completely during season one, so a lot of stuff that happened late season one and into season two does not necessarily apply. This is most relevant in terms of how magic works in Storybrooke and HOW THE CURSE IS BROKEN slash WHAT REGINA KNOWS ABOUT IT. It's pretty easy to follow, I just say this because some things were confirmed by mere coincidence, and some things were completely contradicted as well. So. Friendly reminder._

_Chapter Fifteen_

_When the curtain's call  
>Is the last of all<br>When the lights fade out  
>All the sinners crawl<em>

_So they dug your grave_  
><em>And the masquerade<em>  
><em>Will come calling out<em>  
><em>At the mess you made<em>

_..._

_Don't get too close  
>It's dark inside<br>It's where my demons hide  
>It's where my demons hide<em>

Emma and Henry stay with Graham for about forty-five minutes, but once Henry lets it slip that they're going to see Gold slash Rumplestiltskin, Graham assures them that he'll be fine, and they should go.

With promises to be back soon, Emma reluctantly leaves him.

She follows Henry up the stairs and out of the mausoleum. David and Mary Margaret are waiting outside. They seem shaken and sad, and something about their eyes makes Emma not want to look too closely.

Still, Mary Margaret's touch is reassuring as she places a hand on Emma's arm. "Is he alright?"

"Yeah, he just…I think he just wants out of there." Emma's mouth goes dry, and she thinks again of Jefferson's hat.

"If anyone will know how to do that, it's Gold," David tells her reassuringly.

Emma nods, her eyes still fixed at some point in the distance instead of on their faces. "Then let's go." She touches Henry's shoulder. "We gotta take you home first, kid."

Predictably, Henry protests instantly, "But I wanna go to Gold's!"

"I know you do," Emma says sympathetically, glad to just focus on her son. "But Regina'll be home soon and-"

He nods and cuts her off. "That's okay, you're right. I don't want her to come looking for you."

Emma smiles at him, a rush of affection welling up in her chest. "Thanks, Henry." She puts an arm around his shoulder and walks toward the car.

David and Mary Margaret exchange a glance, then follow her.

~(OUAT)~

David leads the way into the pawn shop, and as soon as he's inside, he flips the Open sign to the Closed side, while Mary Margaret meets Gold's eye and says crisply, "We need to talk."

Emma's a little startled by their take charge demeanors, and almost laughs when she reminds herself that they were a prince and princess or whatever back in the fairy tale land they all apparently came from.

A smirk slowly rises on Gold's face as he stares back and forth between them. "Well, well, well," he says mildly. "I was wondering when this visit was going to happen."

"So you remember," David states coolly. "Good. That'll make this easier."

Gold just smiles. "Let me be the first to congratulate you on the family reunion." His eyes dart to Emma. "It's going well, I trust?"

At that Emma steps forward, between her parents, gripping the edge of the counter that separates them from Gold. "What do you know about the curse?"

Tilting his head, Gold pretends to consider the question. "Well, let me see. I guess I know most everything there is to know about the curse."

"You _did_ create it." David's voice is flat; it's not a question.

"I did," Gold confirms calmly. "But don't fret, dearie. I also made sure there was a savior." He waves a hand at Emma in a gesture of sardonic theatricality. "You're welcome."

There's a thump as Mary Margaret's fist slams down on the counter, and Emma jumps slightly, startled. Leaning close to Gold, Mary Margaret's voice is practically a snarl, angrier than Emma's ever heard her. "Why her? Why _our _daughter? What the hell gives you the right to decide?"

Gold's expression doesn't falter. "Why, your true love did, of course. You should be flattered."

Mary Margaret lunges at him, leaning over the counter to grab a fistful of his shirt, and Emma and David yell at the same time.

"Snow!"

"Mare!"

David inserts himself in front of Mary Margaret, wrapping strong hands around his wife's arms. Emma meet her eyes, imploringly, "Mary Margaret, don't, we need him!"

"Oh, what a shame." Gold makes a mock sad face. "Haven't progressed to Momma and Daddy yet?"

A growl rises from Emma's throat, and she turns away from Mary Margaret to narrow her eyes at Gold. David speaks before she can, gently releasing his wife even as he stares Gold down, eyes blazing, "Just tell us how to break it."

"And why would I do that?"

Finding her voice again, Mary Margaret says tightly, "Because you created the curse for a reason, and you created a way for it to be broken for a reason. I don't particularly care what those reasons are, but we need to know how to do it."

Gold grins in a way that suggests he's pleased they've worked it all out. "Quite right. Luckily for you, _your highness_, I _can_ help. And I want to."

"And also-." Emma stops talking abruptly. She catches David's eye and he nods once, reassuringly.

David turns back to Gold, "Regina also has Graham locked up, in her vault. It's the only place in Storybrooke where there's still magic. She's cast some sort of spell on the bars, we can't break in."

Gold stares at him expectantly. "And?"

"_And_ we need you to get him out," Mary Margaret says tersely.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, dearie." Gold says right away, and Emma's stomach drops.

"Why the hell not?" she demands.

Clapping his hands together and then showing them empty palms, he replies, "I'm afraid I don't have magic here."

"No, you don't understand," Emma's struggling to keep her voice level. "It's different there, magic still works."

"I believe _you're _the one who doesn't understand," Gold says calmly. "Which is understandable, given your very recent belief in our world. I don't doubt that magic can be done there. But it's not the room that's magic…it's Regina. The room is simply a place where it works, but she retains her magic all over this world. I, unfortunately, do not have such a luxury."

Mary Margaret glances at Emma, seeing the anger and panic waging war in her daughter's eyes. Putting a hand on Emma's arm, Mary Margaret says quietly, "If you're lying-"

"I assure you, I am not."

"You want the curse broken," Emma's voice is dangerously low. "I won't do that until he's out of there, until she can't get to him. So you need to figure out a way."

Gold's eyes flit to her, and they settle on Emma's face for an uncomfortably long time before he speaks, "I sympathize with you. I do. Magical objects should retain their magic there, but unfortunately, I have no item that could override any spell Regina's put on the cell."

"Then how do we break the curse?" David asks harshly. Emma whirls to him, on the verge of protest, and he adds quietly, "Emma, it may be something we can do without Regina ever knowing-"

But Gold cuts him off swiftly. "I'm afraid that isn't the case." Emma looks back at him, to find his eyes still boring into hers with an unsettling intensity. "The curse can only be broken when you – and only you – strip Regina of her power."

There's a long silence as they wait for him to continue. David glances at Mary Margaret, the fear in his eyes perfectly mirrored in his own. They both remember the extent of Regina's power.

"What the hell does that mean?" Emma grits out between clenched teeth.

As if he's giving a lecture to a class of students, Gold smoothly explains, "As I said, she still retains magic. She just can't enact it in Storybrooke, other than in the single location you've already found. Well done on that, by the way, makes things much simpler." He offers a congratulatory smile.

"Why?"

"Because that's where you have to be. She can only lose her magic in the one place where it works. Inconvenient, I know, but it's quite a good curse." He pauses, as though basking in his own handiwork, then continues swiftly, "You'll have to lure her there in order to do it."

Emma's throat tightens, and she leans forward, glaring at Gold with a dangerous glint in her eye. She speaks slowly, each word practically vibrating with intensity. "That is where Graham is."

Gold shrugs and makes an exaggerated sad face, as if to say _what can ya do? _

Emma closes her eyes, trying to focus. If she has to face off with Regina down there, all Regina would have to do is hold a gun on Graham and Emma would stop.

And it's not as though Regina's been shy about trying to have him shot before.

"We'll find another way to get him out," Mary Margaret murmurs soothingly in Emma's ear. "We won't put his life at risk."

Emma turns away, frustrated, and dimly she hears David ask, "So how do we take away Regina's magic?"

"Ah ah ah…" Gold shakes his finger at David, scolding. "There is no _we._ There is only _her_. She's the only one who could do it." He pauses, considering. "And she's the only one I can tell how."

That makes Emma turn back to look at him. Mary Margaret's already protesting, "Anything you have to say to our daughter you can say to us."

Gold's eyes meet Emma's again, even as he answers Mary Margaret. "Somehow I don't think she'll agree," he says quietly. "No, I'll need to talk to her alone."

David steps closer to Emma, his expression menacing. "Like hell you do."

Gold doesn't glance at him. "Trust me, Miss Swan, you'll want to hear this on your own." When she doesn't answer, he adds tantalizingly, "Perhaps we can discuss what measures can be taken to protect the dear sheriff as well."

"Emma-"

"It's okay." She looks at David, then at Mary Margaret.

David's gaze locks on Gold, a warning in his eyes. "You can't trust him, Emma."

"I can handle him," she replies calmly. "If me being alone is what it takes for him to start talking, then fine."

"Smart girl," Gold comments, nodding at her.

David and Mary Margaret look at each other, then at Emma. She nods, "Just wait outside?"

With extreme reluctance, they nod and start toward the door. Emma turns back to Gold when they're almost out of the shop, but instead of hearing the bell of the door opening, Mary Margaret's voice prompts, "Charming?"

Emma turns; David's standing in front of an object in the store, his hand outstretched but not touching. As Emma watches, Mary Margaret takes a step closer and then gasps.

Slowly, David turns to look at Gold, his expression hardened with anger. "_This _isn't yours," he growls.

Gold doesn't answer, and Emma moves toward them, squinting at what he's looking at. "What is it?"

Instantly, the anger falls away and David's face tightens into a pained expression. Emma can see what he's looking at now: a set of tiny glass unicorns, dangling from strings. "It was your mobile," he whispers. He clenches his jaw and looks up for a long moment, visibly fighting back emotion until he can force out in a trembling voice, "It was _supposed_ to be."

Emma's eyes start stinging immediately, but she can't make herself look away from the naked anguish on his face. Mary Margaret's fingers stroke the nape of his neck, leans her forehead against his temple and whispering something only he can hear.

Finally, in a swift motion, David grabs the mobile and repeats, "This isn't yours."

He hurries out of the store, and Mary Margaret looks at Emma a long time, then, with visible effort, gives her a reassuring smile before following her husband.

The moment leaves Emma shaken, and it takes her a second to remind herself of the purpose of their leaving. Tightening her jaw resolutely, she turns back to Gold, trying to appear unaffected. "So. What do I have to do? And how do I save Graham?"

"Would you like to know the reason you're the savior?" Gold asks conversationally.

"Not especially," Emma replies shortly.

He continues as if she hadn't spoken. "As you can probably guess, a curse this severe isn't easy to create, and it isn't easy to break, either. But I knew when I made it that there would have to be a way, that it couldn't last forever. So I needed an element of the most powerful magic of all." He smirks, and in a singsong voice says, "_True love_." He nods at the door. "Your parents' true love, to be exact. I created the curse out of a specific combination of their DNA…the combination that would eventually result in you. _That_ is why you're the savior. Because you're part of the curse."

Emma shifts impatiently, not caring about this insight into the world of magic. "Fine. So what does that mean?"

Gold blinks at her, expression still completely, maddeningly calm. "It means that the only way for the curse to break…is for you to die."

~(OUAT)~

When Mary Margaret emerges from Gold's store, David's already halfway across the street. "David!" He doesn't slow down, so she takes off after him.

She reaches the edge of an alley that runs between the library and a convenience store, when David finally stops, halfway down the alley.

That's when the screaming starts.

David screams loudly, an angry, guttural sound. He's kicking at random, discarded trash on the edge of the alley, the fist that isn't clutching the mobile flailing and occasionally grazing the side of the library building. Mary Margaret runs to him, close enough to see his face, a wild mix of grief and fury.

It pulls her up short for a moment, but then she continues toward him, determinedly wrapping her arms around him from behind. He tries to shake her off but she hangs on, murmuring, "Charming, look at me…David… _David_…" Dimly, bizarrely, she realizes how natural both names are: without thinking about it, she's just as likely to say one as the other. "Charming, I'm here, it's okay…"

The fight slowly drains out of him, and his whole body goes weak without it. They sink down unsteadily together so he's on his knees, with her crouched behind him. The screaming goes on, though it keeps fading into something more akin to a moan. His whole body is shaking as he yells, and Mary Margaret's tears drip into his hair as she murmurs soothingly in his ear.

Then, in an abrupt, forceful motion, David grasps one of the strings of the unicorns and slams the tiny figurine against the brick library wall, shattering it.

Startled, Mary Margaret lets him go, rocking back on her heels away from him. He grabs another string and winds up to slam it, but Mary Margaret jerks his arm down with such quickness that it topples David off balance.

He finally stops yelling, then, lying on the ground. His face is barely recognizable, distorted with an animalistic mix of rage and pain, as he blinks up at her. Mary Margaret narrows her eyes at him, her chest heaving, and she yells forcefully, "_Don't."_

"Why not?" His voice is a wreck, hoarse and quivering. "Why the hell not, Snow, she doesn't…she doesn't need these!" He shakes the mobile, the unicorns getting tangled together. "She can't use them now, she never got a chance to…" He's struggling for breath, barely getting the words out. "We picked out every single thing in that nursery, Snow, and we…we talked about it _all the time_, how we were both going to teach her to ride a horse and I was going to show her how to use a sword and you'd get her ready for her first ball like your mother did and she never got _any of it_…"

"Charming, we just talked about this…" Mary Margaret's voice is shaking with the effort of holding back tears. "We didn't have a choice, we had to-"

"I DON'T _CARE_." His face contorts, more screams clawing their way up his throat. "I _don't care_, every other family here, they're frozen in time, when Emma breaks the curse they all get to pick right back up where we left off. It'll be like they didn't lose any time, but SHE DOESN'T GET THAT." With that, he unconsciously slams his fist toward the ground, and the unicorns crash down with it, shattering against the pavement in pieces.

For a moment, she just stares at the wreckage in horror, and then Mary Margaret lets out a low, keening note, bending over the broken glass, arms wrapped around her stomach as she starts to sob.

For once, David can't make himself comfort her. He falls back, lying flat on his back on the dirty pavement, his chest convulsing. He presses his hands over his face, and they muffle a final, feeble scream that lurches out of him.

It's a long, long time before Mary Margaret feels David's arms go tentatively around her. She leans into his touch for a moment before sitting up to look at him. His eyes are thin, bloodshot slits, and there's apology all over his face. She shakes her head to show it's not needed, and swipes a hand across her own tears before pulling him against her.

David presses his face to her collarbone, and she can feel his tears dripping against her skin, but he's quiet now. So Mary Margaret holds her trembling husband for a long, silent stretch of time. After awhile, she starts glancing over to Gold's shop, keeping an eye out for Emma, and it's as though David reads her thoughts.

He sits up, swiping his hands across his face, and says in a ragged voice, "I don't want her to see me like this."

Mary Margaret cups his cheek, her eyes soft on his. "It's alright."

"No, it isn't."

"No, it isn't," she echoes immediately. She sighs shakily. "No matter how much we show her she's loved…it's not going to make up for the twenty-eight years she didn't know it."

"No." His eyes drop to the ground.

"_But_," she lifts his chin with her finger. "We can't let that _stop_ us from trying to show her now. That's all we can do."

David nods for a long. "You're right." Weakly, tiredly, he manages a smile. It fades, though, as he picks up a broken half of a unicorn. "I'm sorry." His voice catches. "We could've given this to her…"

"There will be more things to give her," Mary Margaret assures him gently. "When we get back."

"Right." Still, he combs through the pile of glass and selects the least damaged unicorn – missing only a back leg and part of its tail – and pockets it.

~(OUAT)~

Emma stares at him. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm afraid not," Gold replies easily. "As I said, curses of this magnitude…they aren't easy to break. They require great sacrifice."

Emma's brain feels numb. The surreal level of the past twenty-four hours has finally shot above her comprehension level. "That _cannot_ be right," she says flatly.

"Of course it's understandably difficult to accept," he says offhandedly. "There's no rush. But it's very true. You are _part_ of the curse, Miss Swan. It will exist as long as you do."

She shakes her head. There's no panic, or fear, or anything else she might expect. Emma feels completely removed from what he's saying, like she's reading a book or watching a movie that has nothing to do with her. "No," she finally states simply. "No, you just said the curse is broken when Regina is stripped of her powers."

His eyes light up. "Precisely. Regina cast the curse…it is her most powerful act of magic yet. Killing you….killing her own work…that's what will do it."

"So…it doesn't have to be where the magic is?"

"Oh, no, it does. It's the only way her powers will be released." He pulls an apologetic expression. "You have to die, Miss Swan. Regina must be the one to kill you. And it must be there."

Still not registering the gravity of his words, Emma arches an eyebrow. "Why would she kill me if it will break the curse?"

Gold breaks into a grin. "Why, that's the genius of it. Regina doesn't know what breaks the curse." He takes a sardonic little bow. "She's figured out who you are by now, of course. She knows what you can do. But she doesn't know how you would do it."

Emma can't stop arguing, as if she just needs to find a gap in logic to disprove what he's saying. "But how could you be sure she wouldn't kill me on the spot? Somewhere where there wasn't magic?"

"Well, I couldn't be c_ertain_, of course. I've had to watch you both carefully…and I must admit, I was worried when you nearly died after that terrible shooting incident." He waves a hand as if brushing aside an annoyance. "But I also took certain steps to make sure she'd be reluctant to kill you."

Emma narrows her eyes. "What steps?"

"Henry." Emma's eyes widen; that was the last thing she expected to hear. Gold continues, "Regina can't love, not fully…casting a curse this dark, it robbed her of that ability. But the boy…he's the closest she comes. She _wants_ to love him, wants to prove she's still capable, but more than that she wants him to love her." He pauses, watching her process this. "And if he suspected she killed you, he never would."

"What do you have to do with that?" Emma demands.

At that, Gold smiles. "I'm the one who brought Henry to her, of course."

Instantly, Emma's numbness dissolves, and she makes a strangled, angry sound. "_You_ brought him here? Knowing what this place was, knowing she could never-"

"Adoption is one of my specialties," Gold tells her with a smirk. "And he got you here, didn't he? That was useful as well, besides making Regina more…reluctant to kill you."

Emma's teeth grind against each other, and it takes her a long moment to clench out, "Then what makes you think she'll kill me now?"

"The curse is more important to her than anything," he says simply. "If she thinks you're about to break it, she'll kill you…if it's necessary." He gives her a significant look. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if that's why she's taken your sheriff…so she can try threatening _his_ life and force you into giving up first."

It is this, somehow, that sends Emma crashing against reality.

She has to die.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" She demands, though her voice holds less conviction.

Gold studies for a long time, and for the first time, he looks completely serious as he says, "My son was sent to this world. Long ago." He pauses, seeing her absorb this. "I needed this curse to be cast so I can get here. And I need you to break it so I can leave Storybrooke and find him."

And because Emma has a superpower, she believes him.

"_Fuck_," she whispers, fear coiling in her chest for the first time since he started talking.

She's quiet for a long time, thinking it over and over. _I have to die. I have to die. I have to die._ Trying to feel it.

Finally, she asks, "What if I don't? What if I just say no?"

He squints at her, eyes appraising. After only a few seconds, Gold says, "You won't."

"You barely know me."

"I know you better than you might think, Miss Swan," he replies. "I've been watching you, remember? And beyond that, I knew your parents." He smiles pityingly. "You won't let a whole world of people suffer. And you won't let Regina win." He laughs, once. "Of course, I could always call in my favor…but I suspect I won't need to."

And Emma's chest tightens as she realizes he's right.

She thinks of Jefferson, yelling that she's the only one who can make it work, who could bring him back to his daughter. She thinks of August, insisting that everybody needs her. She thinks of Henry, who believes in her so much.

And more than anything she thinks of Graham, and what he said to her when she first found him.

_I knew as soon as you knew everything, you'd start working to break it. That's who you are, you'd…you'd have been the savior._

She can't be the type of person who walks away. She's let enough people down.

Gold finally breaks into her long silence, "I hope you don't mind me sending away your parents. I assume you'd rather them not know."

"Right…" Emma mutters distractedly.

Her heart constricts just thinking about them. No, she won't be able to tell them. If she did…they'd never let her. They'd let the curse stay as it is. They'd put her life above anything else.

That isn't something she's used to.

But the fact is, they are too young, and she is too old to be their daughter…at least, in the way that they want. They were preparing for a _child_.

A child like _Henry_. Emma's heart tightens even more, and she convinces herself that Henry will be better off with them; his grandparents, still young and together and _ready_ to have a child. She'll make sure they take care of him…but none of them can know what she's planning.

_Graham_.

He can't know either; he'd never allow it. But that won't be as difficult…Emma plans to make sure he's far away before it comes to that.

At this thought, she refocuses, shoving aside everything to do with her death and concentrating on Graham.

"Fine," she says to Gold. "I'll do it. I'll break the curse."

"I thought so," he says with a grin. "Now. You'll have to get Regina down there, and make sure she thinks you're about to break the curse. I have a suggestion-"

"Wait," Emma cuts him off harshly. "Not yet. I'm not doing any of this as long as Graham is trapped down there. She'll kill him before me, and I won't let that happen."

"I understand, but I'm afraid I wasn't lying. I have no way of breaking him out."

Emma screws her eyes shut. "I do," she says finally. She opens her eyes and looks at him, commanding, "Don't go anywhere. I'll be back, and I need you to look at something."

~(OUAT)~

Emma feels dazed when she steps out into the sunlight, and for a moment she can't see Mary Margaret and David. She spots them at the same time they see her; they're across the street sitting on the ground in an alley, and they get up quickly and start toward her.

She meets them on the other side of the street, and the sight of them is like slamming into a brick wall in pitch black darkness: sudden, unexpected pain.

They've both obviously been crying, and David in particular looks wrecked. He clears his throat before speaking, trying and failing to sound casual, "So did you figure it out?"

"Yeah, we're, um, we're working on it," she says, mouth suddenly dry.

The three of them stand there awkwardly for a second, looking at each other, and then suddenly David reaches into his pocket and hands her a small, broken unicorn figurine, and in the saddest voice she's ever heard, he says, "Sorry the…the mobile, it, uh…it broke."

She takes the chipped glass figure in her hands, turning it over in her fingers, and then she looks up and hugs him tightly. His hand cups the back of her head, and Emma buries her face in his shoulder for a moment. She feels Mary Margaret hug her from the other side, and for just a second Emma lets herself feel every bit of the unfairness of only having them for a few days.

But then she makes herself shove that thought aside, reminding herself to focus on Graham. She takes a deliberate step back, out of their embrace.

"Before we do anything else, I need to get Graham out of there," she tells them steadily.

Mary Margaret presses her lips together, quieting the dozens of questions dancing on the tip of her tongue. She'll find out what Gold said later. "Alright. What do you need?"

"I have to go see Jefferson."

David looks at her sharply. "The guy who drugged and kidnapped you?" Emma nods, expressionless, and David replies firmly, "We're coming with you."

Emma has no inclination to argue.

~(OUAT)~

"It won't take long," she assures them, fifteen minutes later, as she hops out of David's car in Jefferson's driveway.

"Five minutes or we're coming in after you," David tells her, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Emma flashes him a smile, though it's laced with a sort of sadness. "Yes, sir."

She knocks hard on Jefferson's door, and he appears a minute later, expression immediately wary, as though she's come to serve him an arrest warrant. "What?"

"I need your hat," Emma informs him bluntly.

Jefferson laughs at her, humorless. "Yeah right. You wouldn't let me use it-"

"I didn't say you couldn't use it," she cuts him off impatiently. "I just told you that it would only work in one place, and that your daughter can't go there if she doesn't believe in the curse."

"So why would you want it?"

"Because I need it for someone who believes."

Jefferson makes a scoffing sound. "And what about everything else you said? About it not being a guarantee anyone will remember?"

"It's for Graham, alright? The sheriff? He already remembers."

"And what if going through when the curse isn't broken messes that up?"

Emma stomach drops slightly, but she brushes off that thought. "This is worth some risk." He stares at her, not budging, and Emma's eyes flash with annoyance. "Remember I told you I'm not going to break the curse until Graham is somewhere Regina can't get him. I can't get him out, so I have to send him somewhere else." Emma hesitates, then adds, "I know how to break the curse, Jefferson. I can get you your daughter back." His eyes light up, with a cautious, frightened hope that's somehow familiar. "But not until Graham is safe."

After a long moment, Jefferson nods, disappearing into his house and saying over his shoulder, "It's a loan. You bring it back when you're done."

~(OUAT)~

"Ever seen this before?"

Gold's eyes widen slowly, genuine surprise settling over his face. He reaches for the hat, but Emma pulls it out of his reach, keeping a firm grip.

"If that's what I think it is…" Gold says in a low voice. "It's a very powerful object."

"It's a portal between worlds," Emma clarifies brusquely. "Or whatever."

"The Mad Hatter's?"

"If you say so. Here he goes by Jefferson," she replies, tone flippant.

"And what exactly…" Gold's voice trails off, and he smirks. "Oh, I see. Very clever." He eyes her. "You want to send the sheriff back?"

"Will it work?"

"It should, as long as you're in the vault." His eyes flicker back down to the hat. "As I mentioned, magical objects retain their magic here, from what I've see."

"And will it…will he have somewhere to go?" Emma pauses, then clarifies, "Does your old world still exist?"

"Of course," Gold says dismissively, as if she's asked a stupid question. "Regina had no desire to destroy an entire world…only the people in it."

Emma rolls her eyes, then frowns, unease gripping her. "And will he…will he be okay?" At Gold's uncomprehending look, she adds, "Because he's going through before the curse is broken?"

"He should have no lasting effects, considering that he already remembers…." Gold frowns, seeming to deliberate. "The only thing in question, I suppose, would be his memories of his time under the curse."

Emma stiffens. "What do you mean?"

"It's possible, that by going back through before the curse is broken…he may forgot his time under it. He'd forget Storybrooke, forget being _Graham_…" Gold trails off, giving her an expectant look.

"Forget _me_." Emma murmurs, not meaning to say it out loud. Her throat constricts immediately, and it makes her feel sick, thinking of Graham forgetting her.

_No_, she thinks firmly. _No, it would actually be better that way._

Because once she sends him through…she'll never see him again.

There is no way to protect her parents and Henry from her death…she can only take comfort for the fact that they are better suited for each other than she would have been for any of them.

Henry wanted a parent who loved him; now he'll get two. Snow and Charming, they wanted to be parents; now they can raise a ten year old, instead of trying to parent their daughter who's their age.

Graham, though…Graham doesn't _have_ to know. If he doesn't remember her, he won't be hurt.

So she tells herself she hopes Gold is right.

"Not for certain now," he says, his voice a_lmost_ genuinely reassuring. "Just a possibility."

"That's fine," Emma finally says curtly, lifting her gaze to meet his. "So other than that…"

"He should be perfectly safe," Gold confirms.

"Good." Emma steps back, clutching the tattered top hat. "I'll do it tonight. And only after I know that it works…we can talk about the curse."

Gold nods, acquiescing. "We better do it soon, then. Once she notices he's missing, Regina will at least begin to suspect you believe."

"Fine."

~(OUAT)~

Mary Margaret and David are waiting outside when she emerges. She's already filled them in on her plan.

They look at her, expectant. "Did he say it would work?"

"It should," Emma replies. She looks at Mary Margaret. "Did you talk to Henry?"

"Yes, he answered the phone, thankfully. He said Regina was just pulling into the driveway, he'll call if she leaves the house."

David glances up at the sky. "It's almost dark. Should we go?"

Suddenly Emma's legs go weak beneath her, and she's overwhelmed by a sense of panic, coupled with a childish need to stall.

After tonight, she'll never see Graham again.

Mary Margaret's peering at her, concerned. "Emma?"

"Um…" Emma's voice comes out high and shaky, and she sucks her lower lip between her teeth. She says the first thing that comes to mind, "I just. I feel bad sending him away without…without Henry knowing. He'd want to see him. Just…just in case."

She closes her eyes and wills herself to stay calm. They cannot know she's upset. As far as her parents know, this is just for a few days. They need to believe she can easily break the curse and get back to Graham herself.

Mary Margaret and David exchange glances. "Okay is there…a way to sneak Henry out?"

"He sneaks out all the time," Emma says, her words tripping over each other. She just wants them all to keep talking, she wants to put off the moment she has to drive to the graveyard and see Graham for the last time. "If, um. If we're outside his house and he's in his room, he'll answer the walkie talkie…"

"Do you have it with you?"

Emma nods. "In the car."

Mary Margaret and David look at each other, and David says, "We'll go try to pick him up. You can go on, so have time to explain everything to Graham."

Emma's stomach curls, but she can't think of a way to object. "Yeah, okay. Thanks." Her hand is shaking when she hands over the walkie talkie. "So I'll meet you there?"

"Yeah, we'll be there soon."

_A/N: Okay. So a lot happened in this chapter. Confession time: this chapter was originally way longer, but I cut it off sooner (so the last half of this one will become the next chapter) because it was getting ridiculously lengthy. And the next two chapters...well, they're my favorite chapters. My 'planned these scene since the beginning' chapters. And the first of those is already written. So...you could be looking at another really quick update._

_So! Motivation? I love reading y'alls reviews and hearing what you think of all the different scenes. So let me know what you think about the curse plot twists, that mother of all angsty Snowing scenes (which I didn't even know I was going to write until I was writing it), dear old Mr. Gold, etc. _


	16. Terrible Love

_A/N:__ Well, this is a shorter chapter, but it's a pretty important one, so I hope you enjoy. Make sure you've read the previous one (just noting that since this is a quick update and anyone who skips chapter fifteen is gonna be super confused) . This chapters song title from "Terrible Love", originally by The National, one of my all time favorite bands, but the version I kept picturing in the important scene in this chapter is by Birdy, and it's haunting and beautiful and you should all listen to it. _

_Chapter Sixteen_

_And I won't follow you__  
><em>_Into the rabbit hole__  
><em>_I said I would__  
><em>_But then I saw__  
><em>_Your shivered bones__  
><em>_They didn't want me to_

_It's a terrible love__  
><em>_And I'm walking with spiders__  
><em>_It's a terrible love and I'm walking in__  
><em>_It's a terrible love and I'm walking with spiders__  
><em>_It's a terrible love and I'm walking in_

_It takes an ocean not to break__  
><em>_It takes an ocean not to break_

Twenty minutes after Mary Margaret and David leave to pick up Henry, Emma's sitting stone still in her Bug at the cemetery. Her whole body feels heavy, like it's impossible to move. She closes her eyes and presses her index fingers hard against her eyelids, ordering herself not to cry.

She can't let any of them, especially Graham, suspect anything. She has to seem confident in this plan, like none of this is a big deal.

Yet she also has to say goodbye.

She will have to do this a few times in the next day or so. She will have to somehow give Henry, and her parents, a goodbye without letting on that it is one.

But Graham is the first. And just in case he remembers her, just in case he has to be told later that she's dead…she has to make sure he understands how much he means to her.

Finally, Emma gets out of the car, clutching Jefferson's hat and her hand, and starts toward the mausoleum. Emma used to be an expert of appearing fine when she is anything but, and as she walks toward Graham, she orders herself to regain that ability.

His face lights up when he sees her, and right away an ache swells in her chest. "Hey, you."

It hurts to look at him, so Emma lowers her eyes. "Hi."

Already she's bad at pretending; his eyebrows draw together, expression questioning. "Everything okay?"

Emma swallows against the stubborn lump in her throat, then lifts her head to look at him, saying resolutely, "Everything's great actually."

Graham lifts an eyebrow in surprise. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Gold told me how to break the curse. And I figured out how to make sure Regina doesn't hurt you before I do it."

A wide smile split his face, and his eyes sparkle teasingly at her. "That's my girl. Want to fill me in?"

Emma doesn't answer for a moment. Then, she meets his eyes, expression serious. "Graham, do you trust me?"

He doesn't even have to think about it. "Of course."

"Good." Emma steps up to the bars for the first time since she came in, reaching through and taking one of his hands in both of hers, dropping the hat on the ground beside her. "Because I need you to."

Confusion slowly shadows the relief on his face. "Em, what's going on?"

"Gold knew how to break the curse. He's going to help me do it, and I can do it tomorrow."

"And Gold…you trust him?"

"I trust that he wants the curse broken, yeah." Graham seems to accept that, nodding, and Emma continues. "He created the curse, so he also created a way for it to be broken. It won't be difficult, but it has to be me, and it has to happen down here, where there's magic."

"Okay, so…what is it? What do you have to do?"

"Graham just…just listen. " Emma pauses, her mind going suddenly and terrifyingly blank. In the next second, though, it clears, and she remembers the lie she and Gold constructed and recites, "To enact the curse, Regina had to kill and use the heart of the person she loved most…her father." Graham grimaces. "His coffins above the entrance to this place, but his heart's down here." Emma waves vaguely at the wall of drawers on the other side of the room. "It's part of the curse, so to break it…I have to destroy it. And I have to do it down here, when Regina's in the room, because it…it strips her of her power."

Suddenly it sounds like a feeble lie, but Graham doesn't waste time questioning it. Instead, he just says, "Emma, you can't go against Regina here. The magic she can do, she'll kill you on sight-"

"She won't," Emma tells him. "The heart, she can't use magic to protect it, since it's part of the curse. As soon as she's here, all I have to do is crush it and there's nothing she can do to me." Painstakingly, Emma makes herself look up at him, finally meeting his eyes. "That's probably why she has you down here, Graham. As soon as she sees me here, all she has to do is threaten to kill you and I'd give it back."

She watches him, seeing this information sinking in, seeing him start to believe the logic of it, and Emma feels nauseous with guilt.

She's never lied to him before.

"So what do we do?" He asks in a wary voice.

Emma picks up the hat. "This is a portal. It'll work down here, and it'll take you back to the Enchanted Forest-"

"_No_," Graham protests instantly, as she'd known he would. "Em, I'm _not_ leaving you."

"Graham, you _have_ to." She lifts her hands, cradling his face, not letting him look away from her. "We _can't_ get you out, Gold can't do anything about the spell-"

"I _don't care_," he says stubbornly. His eyes are wide, glinting with determination and a hint of betrayal that cuts Emma to the quick. "If something happens to you-"

"You can't help me, Graham! Not from in there, all you're doing is giving her a way to get to me…"

His face twists, expression agonized. "But I wouldn't know, I…I'd have no way of knowing if something happened-"

"Nothing's going to happen," Emma's voice is losing any semblance of steadiness as she begs him, "Graham, _please_-

"No, I can't, Em, I can't…" He's begging now, too, and he grabs onto the bars tightly, looking like he's ready to pull them out of the ground. "Em, I can't just leave you here with her-"

"She will _kill_ you!" Emma's voice cracks.

"I can't, what if something…" His face crumples. "If something goes wrong-"

Graham's eyes are wide and pleading and terrified, and it's breaking her. Emma reaches in and seizes the front of his shirt, her voice thick with the weight of threatening tears, "_Please_, Graham. Please do this for me, I can't do what I'm supposed to do if she can hurt you, I c_an't_. I _have _to know you're safe, _please_."

He drops his head against the bars, and Emma leans against him, momentarily burying her face in his curls. Her eyes are closed so tightly it feels like she's holding back blood, rather than tears.

"But how do I know _you're_ safe?" Graham asks finally in a small, broken voice.

"I'll be fine," Emma murmurs against him, dropping her lips against the crown of his head before cupping his cheek and lifting his head. "And the curse will break, and we'll be right behind you. And even if it doesn't open up that world, I'll have the hat."

Every time he looks at her, every lie she tells…Emma can feel pieces of her cracking and falling away, and she's sure that after she does this three more times, after she has told the four people she loves in this world goodbye, there will be very little left for Regina to kill.

Graham makes a sound that's half-sob, half-gasp, and he glares angrily at the ceiling, blinking hard. Still not agreeing.

"_Please_, Graham. Otherwise I ca_n't_ do this. I _won't._"

Finally, he exhales a long, shaky breath and meets her eyes again. His voice is tight, quiet. "You're sure there's no other way?"

In spite of herself, a relieved sob tears out of her throat and Emma shakes her head. "It _has _to be this."

Graham closes his eyes and, painstakingly, he nods once in assent.

Emma grabs the front of his shirt through the bars and tugs him as close as he can get, and she kisses him, fierce and desperate. It goes on for awhile, and Emma's hands are everywhere, just feeling the warmth of his skin and trying to memorize the feel of him.

Graham starts to pull back every few seconds, murmuring against her lips, "You'll be careful?"

Something else inside her breaks. "Yes."

"And your parents, you'll let them help you?"

Another crack, an open fault line. "Yes."

"And you'll find me? First thing?"

A landslide that nearly unravels her. "Yes."

Then, mercifully, she hears David call down, "Emma?"

"Come on!" She calls back. Emma pulls back from Graham, but she fists a section of his shirt in her hand like she doesn't want to let him go. "Henry wanted to see you before..."

Graham nods, dread etched in his face, and suddenly Henry comes bounding down the stairs, Prince tucked in his arms.

David and Mary Margaret are behind him, and Mary Margaret gives Emma an apologetic look. "Sorry it took so long, Henry wanted to go by the apartment for Prince…"

Henry smiles at Graham, gently putting the cat on the floor. Prince immediately darts through the bars to rub against Graham's legs, and Henry explains earnestly, "There's nobody in the Enchanted Forest yet. I didn't want you to be _all_ by yourself."

Graham smiles, but his lips are shaking as he tries to hold it. "Thanks, buddy."

"Did Emma tell you?" Henry asks eagerly. "She can break the curse, so we'll all be back there with you soon!"

Emma turns around abruptly, biting the inside of her lip so hard she tastes blood, to keep herself from breaking down completely. If she has to look at her son right now, she'll fall apart, and then they will all demand explanations, and Graham won't agree to go, and…

David's voice cuts into her thoughts, "Actually, can I…have a word with Graham alone?"

The surprise is enough to pull Emma together, and she nods. "Sure." She meets Graham's eyes. "I'll be back."

He nods, and Mary Margaret kisses his cheek while Henry hugs him and then bumps his fist through the bars. They're both relatively easygoing, just wishing Graham good luck and saying they'll see him soon.

Emma practically sprints up the stairs.

When she gets to the top, she bursts out of the mausoleum and gets about ten feet away before falling to her knees and retching.

In seconds, Mary Margaret's behind her, one hand rubbing light, soothing circles in Emma's back while the other pulls her hair out of the way.

But there's nothing in her stomach; she hasn't stopped all day to eat. Hot tears mingle with the cold sweat on her face, and even when she's done dry heaving, Emma stays curled up on the grass, terrified of what's coming.

"Emma, honey, what is it?" Mary Margaret's voice is warm with concern, and it seems to be coming from a fog far above her.

"Is she okay?" Henry sounds worried, and Emma remembers he's watching and makes an effort to sit up.

"She'll be fine, sweetie," Mary Margaret assures the boy over her shoulder, before turning back to Emma and brushing away an errant strand of hair that's sticking to her cheek. In an undertone, she asks, "What's wrong?"

Emma reminds herself not act upset, not to let on anything's off. Then, an explanation comes to her. "I didn't tell Graham but…Gold says…going through he may not remember me. Or anything about Storybrooke, he might forget…"

"Oh…" Mary Margaret's face falls. "Oh, Emma…I'm sure he'll remember. And even if he doesn't…you'll find him, and you'll tell him. Memories don't erase love, honey…look at your dad and me. I had no idea who he was, but from the first moment I saw him…"

"You're right," Emma replies dully, and she reminds herself to hope that Graham _does_ forget her. Because the alternative is too easy to picture: the curse broken, the rest of her family back in their old land, Graham finding them, looking around for her, seeing the look on her parents' face…

Emma shakes her head, trying to physically expel the mental image. She can't think about that, especially not now.

Henry approaches her tentatively. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Henry, I'm good. And thank you, for bringing Prince for Graham. That was really sweet." Emma stands up and impulsively pulls him into a hug. Henry's arms go tightly around her waist, and she threads her fingers through his soft, fine hair, her chest swelling painfully as she wonders how she can even begin to say goodbye to her son.

~(OUAT)~

As soon as Mary Margaret and Henry disappear up the stairs behind Emma, David turns to Graham.

For a long moment, the two men are quiet. David shifts his weight, and seems to hesitate before at last saying, his words slow and deliberate, "There's a lot I want to say to you."

Graham arches an eyebrow, wondering if he's about to get some sort of bizarre version of the 'girlfriend's father' talk.

Then, David says, "Most of it starts with _thank you_." They look at each other, and Graham can see David tracing back moments: the times in the hospital that Graham made sure David was included, the times after Emma's release when Graham would leave them alone together, every effort Graham went to to make sure David was included in the family before anyone else even realized they were one.

"It's not necessary," Graham mumbles awkwardly.

David ignores that. "But there'll be time for that later." David steps closer to the bars. "Right now…I know you must hate this." Graham's face tightens, and it becomes painful to hold David's eyes. "I know it's killing you to leave her, even though you know it's the best thing for both of you." David's voice catches, but he sets his jaw and forces back the emotions. "What I want you to know is…I would _die_ for my daughter."

Slowly, Graham nods. "I know."

"I will _make_ _sure_ she is safe." There's a fierce conviction in David's voice. "I will make sure she gets back to you."

Graham presses his lips together and nods for a long time before he trusts himself to speak. He sticks out his hand, and David shakes it, and for a second they hold on. "Thank you."

~(OUAT)~

"Emma?"

David emerges from the mausoleum, and the whole world seems to tilt beneath her.

"It's time." He glances around. "Where's Snow?"

"She'll be back, she's taking Henry home," Emma says faintly. "We didn't want Regina to notice…"

"Oh, right." He looks at Emma, and rests a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be right here, okay?"

"Kay." She can barely get the words out, and then, partly because she's curious and partly because she wants to put off this next moment for as long as possible, she asks, "What did you tell him?"

David looks at her, his eyes softening. Emma flushes slightly; sometimes when he looks at her, there's something almost awed in his expression, like he still can't believe she's in front of him. "I told him not to worry. That I'd make sure you were safe."

The words knife through her, and Emma fixes her eyes firmly on a gravestone over David's shoulder. She tightens her jaw and takes slow, deliberate breaths, staying perfectly still until the need to burst into tears passes.

Her eyes skim over to David's and she forces a smile. "Thanks."

Then she has to go. Her legs are shaking beneath her as she walks toward the mausoleum and down the stairs to see Graham for the last time.

He's leaning against the bars waiting for her, his face set into a mask of dread, Prince lying lazily in the corner of his cell. The hat is lying on the floor where she left it, and Emma stops in front of it, still a few feet away from Graham. "You ready?"

"No," he says bluntly.

Emma can already feel how tenuous her ability to keep her emotion in check is; her chin is trembling, tears clinging stubbornly to her eyelashes. She could drag this out, but as tempting as it is to sit here with him all night, the longer she waits the more her resolve crumbles.

"I'm so, so sorry," she whispers in a thick, broken voice, hoping that later, if he does remember her, he will understand what she is apologizing for, even if he doesn't now.

The dread dissolves from his face and it's replaced by the soft, tender expression that is so uniquely Graham. He is the only person to ever look at her like that, and it makes her feel safe and beautiful and _loved_.

"C'mere," his voice is soft, and Emma moves toward him. He presses his torso right against the bars and snakes his arms, wrapping them around her. It's the closest he can get to holding her, and they stay like that for a long time.

Emma feels like she's going to burst, too full of thousands of tiny little moments, everything she remembers about him: the first time she saw him in Regina's house, the grin on his face when he snapped handcuffs around her, the way she felt when he offered her the job, her hand on his heart, the kiss in the station, the moment she decided to let herself feel this, his eyes fluttering open when she was certain he was gone, hot chocolate in the morning and kissing in the rain and grilled cheeses by a fire and his voice saying he loves her and so many more things….

But she's the one who finally steps away, and she reaches down and grabs the hat. The words feel like broken glass in her throat as she tells him, "Graham, it's time…" Her hand snakes around the nape of his neck fiercely, in total contradiction to her words.

There are tears in his eyes, and it's all she can do to smile weakly at him. His hand comes up to cup her face, thumb lightly tracing the curve of her cheekbone.

Their words start spilling out, tripping over each other, no space between their voices.

"Em…"

"I'm sorry…"

"Emma…"

"I love you."

"I love _you_."

"Graham-"

"Be careful."

"I will."

"You come back to me-"

"Graham, I-"

"-no matter what."

"I will."

"I love you."

"I love you."

"You can do this."

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be-"

"But I am-"

"Em-"

"Graham-"

He kisses her one more time, sweet and slow, and finally Emma makes herself wrench away. She bends down and reaches through the cell with it. In spite of her promises to herself not to cry in front of him, tears are rolling down her cheeks. She's aware of Graham moving, picking up the cat before coming to stand in front of her.

Emma closes her eyes, sending more tears splashing down, and spins the hat just as Jefferson told her.

Immediately it takes on a life of its own, spinning quickly toward the back of the cell, purple fog rising from its depths.

Emma stands up. Graham's frozen in place, staring at her. Emma grabs the hand that isn't cradling Prince and brings it to her lips, kissing his knuckles and saying in a quiet, fierce voice, "_You_ are the love of my life."

Graham nods, and pulls his hand away to touch her cheek. "And you're mine." He makes a gasping, choking sort of sound. "Em-"

The roaring of wind if filling the room, the purple smoke overwhelming them. Crying openly now, Emma touches his face briefly, pointlessly, then says, her voice hitching, "Graham, you gotta go."

"_Please_ promise me-"

"Graham."

"-that you'll be careful."

"_Graham."_

He nods, and wincing as though it's causing him physical pain, he pulls his hand away from her and steps back. She can't hear the words anymore, but reads the _I love you _on his lips.

She mouths it back, and Graham turns away from her, facing the whirlwind above the hat.

She braces herself, but he doesn't move. After a moment, he looks back, and he's crying now; like a reflex, sobs rise in Emma's throat. Graham shouts to be heard over the roar of the wind. "WHEN YOU BREAK THE CURSE..."

Emma's face crumples, and she yells back, "I'll find you!"

He nods and turns away again. A sickening terror rushes over Emma, and she doesn't want the last thing she ever says to him to be a lie, so she yells desperately, yet again, "_I love you_."

But at that exact moment, Graham, with Prince in his arms, steps into the fog and disappears, and Emma has no way of knowing if he heard her.

~(OUAT)~

Mary Margaret gets out of the car and walks toward her husband, who's pacing in wait outside the mausoleum. She lifts her eyebrows in surprise. "She's still down there?"

"Yeah, I think Graham's having a hard time with it."

"So is Emma," Mary Margaret puts in. Off David's questioning look, she explains, "Emma told me Gold said there's a chance Graham won't remember anything about his time in Storybrooke."

"Oh." Clarity dawns on David's face. "So he won't remember her?"

"Maybe. She didn't tell him, though."

David's quiet for a moment. "Well, if he doesn't…they'll be okay. He'll fall for her again" He smiles a little at his wife. "Memory loss didn't stop us, did it?"

"That's what I told her," Mary Margaret said with a smile, though it fades quickly. "Though I suppose it would be harder if one of us had remembered and the other hadn't."

"Well, hopefully it isn't even an issue…" David casts his eyes toward the mausoleum. "Should we check on her?"

The two of them walk tentatively to the grave and open the door. From down the stairs, they can hear a loud, roaring sound, like a wind tunnel. They look at each other, uncertain, then abruptly it stops.

There's a long, hollow silence. And then, suddenly, the long, low sound of sobbing.

They nearly fall over each other trying to get down the stairs. Emma's on her knees in front of the jail cell, her hands wrapped around the bars, forehead tipped against them, crying like her heart is breaking.

"Emma!"

They reach her at the same time, dropping onto the knees on either side of her.

"Hey…hey…c'mere…" David gently removes her hands from their death grip on the jai cell, and then wraps an arm around her and eases her toward him. She nearly collapses against his chest, and soon she's crying into his jacket while Mary Margaret sits in front of them, gently stroking Emma's hair.

But for once their presence doesn't comfort her. Mary Margaret's gentle ministrations, David's steadying arms around her…all it does is remind her that soon she will go through this again, with them.

~(OUAT)~

_A/N: __ So... You guys have been great about reviewing, I love hearing what you think, so please let me know how you liked this. I've been picturing these scenes since the beginning, so I hope they're satisfying. More big chapters coming up! _


	17. Enough For Now

_A/N:__ Sorry for the slight delay here, but it's a lengthy chapter so hopefully that helps. Not much to say this time, other than that the song comes from "Enough for Now" by The Fray, which, with a certain lyric interpretation, is such a Charming family song I can't even deal. It gives me like a thousand Emma/Daddy Charming feels, and just…ugh. Lots of them this chapter (I sometimes show a bias toward writing them, just because there's so little of it on the show, and I've loved writing this fic and exploring a deeper bond with them, both before and after they knew the truth). But really, all the Charming Family combos slay me. ENJOY!_

Chapter Seventeen

_Breathing comes in pairs_  
><em>Except for twice<em>  
><em>One begins and one's goodbye<em>

_And that's enough for now_  
><em>He never wanted to leave you broken<em>  
><em>He would have held you<em>  
><em>Things your father never could do<em>  
><em>That's enough for now<em>  
><em>I would have never left you broken<em>  
><em>I would have held you<em>  
><em>Things your father never could do<em>  
><em>Words your father never told you<em>

She needs to stop crying.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Emma knows this. She'd made herself all sorts of promises to herself about keeping it together in front of Graham, but she'd failed to imagine this moment. Too painful, probably. Because now he's gone, and though her forever won't last more than a few days, knowing she'll never see him again is shredding her heart.

But her parents are still here, and though they might buy that she's just terrified Graham won't remember her, she can't risk them getting suspicious.

"Sssh, Emma…it's okay. Everything's gonna be okay...sssh, sweetheart, I've gotcha…" David's voice is low and soothing against her ear, and he sounds so much like a dad that she can't breathe.

It's not helping, crying in his arms while Mary Margaret strokes her hair, because it makes Emma feel about four years old, and now more than ever she needs to be strong.

With concentrated effort, Emma peels herself away from David's chest and sits up, her breathing still stilted as she tries to choke back more sobs.

Then she catches a glimpse of Mary Margaret's face. Tears roll steadily down her cheeks, dripping off her chin as she makes no move to wipe them, her fingers too preoccupied with their soothing. Emma sneaks a look at David; he, too, is on the brink of tears, blinking rapidly and occasionally losing the battle.

Emma's chest constricts. She's never had this before; people who hurt simply because she's hurting.

She had never understood it before meeting Henry. The love between a parent and a child, that visceral, tugging connection, the fact that her child's pain may as well be her own.

Now, at twenty-eight years old, she is finally experiencing the other side of it, and all she can feel is guilt over what she's about to put them through.

"I'm sorry," she gasps out, her voice ragged.

"Oh, honey, don't be sorry…" Mary Margaret thumbs away the tears on her daughter's face, then keeps her hand there, meeting Emma's eyes. "You and Graham will be fine. He'll remember you, and even if he doesn't…" She smiles a little. "You've given him back old memories before."

"I know, it's…I'm being stupid," Emma mutters. She lowers her eyes; somehow her hand's ended up linked with David's, and for a long moment she stares at their interwoven fingers and feels like her chest is caving in.

"Not stupid," he tells her gently. "I know that was an incredibly hard thing to do, Emma. But you saved his life." Impulsively, David drops a kiss on her forehead. "We're really, really proud of you."

Emma shakes her head, because she can't take anymore of this. "We should…we should go. I can tell Gold-"

"No," Mary Margaret cuts her off firmly. "No, Gold can wait. You two – " she eyes her husband and daughter pointedly. "-have barely slept in two and a half days, and we could all use a break." She touches Emma's arm, reassuringly. "We'll worry about the curse tomorrow."

Emma nods, slightly relieved.

"C'mon…" David tucks a hand under the crook of her elbow and helps Emma up.

The three of them head up the stairs together, but Emma looks back, eyes welling up again as she stares at the empty place Graham had been standing, before he disappeared from her forever.

However long that is for her.

~(OUAT)~

"You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah." Emma leans against the doorframes and forces a weak smile, hoping to chase away some of the worry in their eyes. She looks directly at David. "Don't worry about me, you…you should sleep."

"If you're sure…do you need anything?"

She shakes her head mutely. He makes half movement toward her, then seems to hesitate. So Emma steps forward and hugs him, hard, and when she finally lets go she hugs Mary Margaret, too.

She doesn't have time for walls. There is nothing left to protect herself from. Emma has always been certain that she was sure to lose anyone she let herself love.

Now, instead, they will all lose her.

"Goodnight."

"Night, Emma."

She holds a smile until her bedroom closes.

Emma can feel exhaustion gnawing at the edges of the adrenaline and grief that have kept her from feeling it, but she doesn't sleep right away.

Instead, she goes to the back corner of her closet, where she'd hung Graham's jacket a few weeks ago after finally bringing it home from the station.

She's been reluctant to liberate it too often, scared of losing the familiar, comforting scent of Graham, the swirl of leather and coffee and aftershave, but now she doesn't need to make it last. Curling on her bed, Emma nestles against the jacket, breathing it in and trying to revel in the fact that, for the first time in over a month, she knows Graham is safe.

She can't stop her mind from skimming back through their last conversation, can't stop herself from coming up with a thousand other things she wish she'd said to him.

It wasn't enough time. She found out she'd have to die, and a few hours later, she was letting Graham go.

Tomorrow is Saturday. She will not break the curse tomorrow, she can't. She will spend one more day with her son and her parents.

Emma needs that much, at least, before she'll be ready to let them go.

~(OUAT)~

Having decided that, Emma drifts off. But in spite of her exhaustion, she only sleeps in brief, fitful bursts, always jolting awake with Graham's name scratching her throat, or her lungs bursting with panic that she's somehow run out of time already.

At six thirty a.m. she gives up trying to go back to sleep. The rest of the apartment is quiet, so she simply lies there, Graham's jacket clutched against her chest, trying to prepare everything she can allow herself to say to Henry and David and Mary Margaret today.

It's not enough. Her eyes fill with tears as the realization hits her. It wasn't enough with Graham, and it won't be enough with her family. She cannot tell them everything she needs to say without letting on that it's for good.

On impulse, Emma bolts upright and gets out of bed, quietly moving out of her bedroom and rummaging around various drawers until she finds what she's looking for.

She returns to her bedroom, leaving the door cracked behind her, and Emma opens the notebook in front of her, uncaps the pen, and begins to write. _Dear Graham_…

~(OUAT)~

It's nearly nine when Mary Margaret emerges from her bedroom to find Emma in the kitchen, making pancakes.

"Morning," she says, alerting her daughter to her presence. "I figured you'd sleep in a little later today."

"Oh…" Emma forces a smile. "I got enough rest. Thought I might make you and David breakfast…" She waves a hand vaguely at the spread of ingredients in front of her. "Let him sleep though," she adds hastily. "I feel bad for keeping him up so many nights…"

"You know he doesn't mind." Mary Margaret moves into the kitchen to help, grabbing a carton of eggs out of the fridge. "He's always been an early riser, should be up soon."

Emma glances sideways at her; she can see the poorly veiled concern in Mary Margaret's eyes, can feel the questions about Graham coming, so Emma blurts out sooner than she's intended, "Could you, um. Could you tell me about you met him? David?" Emma frowns. "Or James, I guess, since I technically know how you met _David_-"

Emma stops talking abruptly, and flushes under the bright, genuine smile on Mary Margaret's face. Eyes shining, she answers, "Of course…I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Feeling suddenly shy, Emma turns her attention to the mix on the griddle and murmurs, "I mean, I've read the book, but it's sort of…bare minimum, detail wise."

"Right, of course…" Mary Margaret's still smiling, a faraway look settling into her eyes. "Well, I was on the run, at the time. Regina, she'd killed my father, and wanted me dead too. This was right after Graham-." Mary Margaret stops talking instantly, grimacing as she snaps back to the present.

"It's okay," Emma tells her. "He told me about it."

"He saved my life." Mary Margaret frowns a little, sadness etched into her features. "All that time, I never realized what he lost because of it…I should have thanked him."

"You can," Emma reminds her without looking up. "When you get back." Mary Margaret glances at her, and Emma corrects hastily, "When we all get back."

"You're right. I will." Then she smiles again, picking up the thread of the story. "Anyway, I'd grown up in a palace, and suddenly I was just running around the woods. Had to learn pretty quickly how to take care of myself. Although I guess I didn't do the best job…sometimes I had to steal things, to sell for money."

Emma ducks her head a little lower to hide the sudden grin tugging at her lips. Something she and her mother have in common.

"I'm not proud of it," Mary Margaret clarifies quickly. "And I tried to only steal from the queen's carriages, since all their things were technically my family's. But sometimes I guess I was wrong, and one day your dad was riding by…"

~(OUAT)~

"…and I woke up in this…perfectly creepy glass coffin, and Charming was standing there-"

"I love this story."

Both women turn, startled from the reverie, to see David leaning against the wall, watching them with a soft smile on his face.

Immediately Mary Margaret smirks at him. "Of course you do. You get to be the hero."

He comes over and kisses her lightly. "You were the hero plenty, too." He smiles at Emma. "Morning."

"Hi." She smiles at him, still slightly lost in Mary Margaret's stories. She likes knowing that he wasn't always a prince, that he was a shepherd who was thrown into responsibility and expectations. It makes her feel a little better about being thrown into her own role.

"Smells great in here," David eyes the food enthusiastically. "You two been up long?"

"Long enough to get from me trying to rob you to you waking me up."

"So awhile." He smiles a little sheepishly. "Didn't mean to sleep so late."

"No, you needed it," Emma said immediately, carrying a plate of food to the table.

"And just in time for breakfast," his wife tells him. She meets his eyes over Emma's shoulder, beaming, and David's heart catches at the utter delight he reads in her eyes.

This, telling their daughter their story…it's one of those wish list moments they'd had, moments they hadn't been sure they'd get. He smiles back, and they settle down at the table, on either end of the table with Emma between them.

"You want to take it from here?" Mary Margaret asks, arching an eyebrow at her husband.

He glances sideways at Emma. "If she's not sick of it."

"I'm not," Emma says quickly, and David smiles and, his eyes gleaming, tells about his proposal, and their two weddings, finding out Snow was pregnant. His words are warm and easy, and Mary Margaret jumps in occasionally to add relevant details, and Emma drinks it all in.

It's only when they get to the curse the he begins to falter, and Emma cuts him off gently, "It's oka,y I know about all that, already." She smiles at him, genuinely. "Thanks."

David smiles back, relief striped through it. They're all eating with unusual slowness, like there's some unspoken agreement to make the easy domesticity of a family meal last.

Then, Mary Margaret meets Emma's eyes. "What about you?"

Panic flickers in Emma's eyes, and she glances at Mary Margaret uncertainly. "What do you mean?"

"Just…" Mary Margaret's mouth closes, and she looks at David for help. How do you ask your daughter for her whole life story? If she could, Mary Margaret would have Emma account for every second they missed, no matter how much it hurts to hear about the life she lived without them.

David understands what she means, but he can't find the words either.

Finally, Mary Margaret just says quietly, "Just tell us…anything. Anything at all. It…it isn't right that we know so little about your…your whole life." She pauses, then adds, "What was it like for you?"

Emma glances back and forth between the two of them, taking in the needy, desperate hunger in their eyes, alongside the slightest hints of trepidation.

She knows what they're really asking. They need to fill in the huge, gaping blank that is her life before Storybrooke. They want to know what it was like growing up without them.

A shadow crosses Emma's face, and she lowers her eyes before she gives it all away without speaking.

And she makes a decision. She will hurt them enough, come tomorrow. So as much as some small, selfish part of her wants them to understand, she will not do that to them.

So she thinks for a long time before she remembers something she can use, and a smile blossoms on her face as she lifts her eyes again. "Actually…this is funny, I hadn't thought of it until now…I was Snow White for Halloween once."

Surprised, delighted laughter lurches out of both of them, unmistakable relief breaking over their face. Unconsciously, both of her parents lean toward her slightly, eyes shining with eagerness.

"Yeah, I think I was like eight or nine, maybe…it was at one of the group homes, and there were a bunch of costumes we could all choose from." She leaves out the fact that it was the only one that even remotely fit her, that she'd wanted to be a superhero that year, but of course wasn't given a choice. "We were allowed to wear costumes to school that year, and this one girl kept telling me I didn't look anything like Snow White because I had blonde hair." She'd also been made fun of, Emma remembers, because the costume was dirty and too small for her, and she'd spent the whole class party longingly watching the volunteer mothers pass out cupcakes, and feeling embarrassed because she hadn't brought candy to pass out to her classmates like they were all supposed to.

Now, though, Emma grins at her parents. "Guess she was pretty wrong, huh?"

They laugh, latching onto this detail, this one story amid hundreds. David clears his throat then, and asks casually, "So it was, um…a group home? Was that usually where…?"

"No, I was usually with different foster parents," Emma replies, discomfort curling up her spine at this topic. "The group homes were just between families, never for very long."

"Oh." Mary Margaret is eying Emma intently, like she's trying to read between the words for the real story. Finally, she asks, "So how…the foster families how were they, usually?"

Emma doesn't hesitate this time. "Most of them were nice. There were, you know…a lot of kids around, which was fun. So. It was fine."

She can feel David's eyes on her, so she makes herself meet his gaze, then Mary Margaret's, smiling in what she hopes is a convincing manner.

There's a short silence, then Mary Margaret smiles back. "That's good."

"Yeah." Emma picks up her plate. "I've gotta go see Gold, probably shouldn't put it off much longer."

"Oh, right," David replies in a tone that suggests he'd forgotten all about the curse. "Do you want us to come with you?"

"No, I'm just going to talk to him." Emma carries her plate to the kitchen, hesitating, then says with her back to them. "I think we're not going to…try to get Regina down there until tomorrow. So maybe we could all just…spend the day together?" She winces as soon as the words leave her mouth, hearing the cause for suspicion in every syllable.

But Mary Margaret just beams at her, agreeing quickly, "Of course, that sounds great."

"The walkie talkie's still in my car," David offers. "We can try to track down Henry while you talk to Gold."

"That'd be perfect, actually. I won't be long at Gold's, just want to make sure everything's…when Regina sees Graham's gone she's gonna come to him-"

"We know."

"We'll meet you back here."

"Thanks." Emma graces them both with a quick smile before disappearing into her bedroom to grab a jacket.

Graham's coat is still lying on her bed, and just the sight of it triggers the usual longing to see him, and as soon as the thought enters her mind, Emma has to remember that she won't be seeing him, ever again.

Her throat tightens, and Emma reaches out and worries the fabric between her fingers for a long moment, hesitating, before thinking _Fuck it_ and slipping her arms into his jacket and tucking the letters she wrote early this morning into the pocket.

Her parents both freeze and stare at her when she emerges, immediately recognizing the jacket, their faces melting into worry and sympathy.

"I'm really fine," she says quickly.

"So is Graham," Mary Margaret replies gently. "I'm sure he's okay, and you'll see him in a few days."

"Yeah, I know." Emma turns quickly so they don't see her face. "I'll meet you guys back here soon."

~(OUAT)~

"Has she been here?"

Gold looks up to see Emma sweeping purposefully into the shop, and he doesn't pretend to misunderstand. "Not yet," he replies crisply. "But it's only a matter of time…soon as she goes down and sees the sheriff isn't there." He arches an eyebrow. "I take it all went smoothly on that front?"

Emma nods curtly and approaches the counter. She sees Gold's gaze drop to the jacket, and the corner of his mouth lifts a little. Before he can comment, Emma states brusquely, "Listen. I need today."

"Today for what?"

"I need to hold her off for today," Emma clarifies firmly. "Tomorrow, fine. We get her down there, I'll break the curse. I'll let her kill me." She squares her shoulders, eyes glinting with defiance. "But not until tomorrow."

Gold purses his lips, narrowing his eyes at her. "That's risky, dearie," he says softly. "Take a bit more finesse on my part.."

"Then _do it_," Emma cuts him off sharply. She takes a step back, drawing a steadying breath. When she speaks again, her words are slow and deliberate. "I have to die for this. And I will. But I _need_ one more day with my parents and my son." Her voice catches, and Emma sets her jaw firmly before continuing. "I couldn't wait with Graham. Not like that…not when she could hurt him. But with them…" She makes a low, strangled sound in the back of her throat, and Emma grits her teeth, angry at herself for showing weakness. She looks Gold in the eye, her voice forceful, "I _get_ today."

There's a long, pregnant pause as he stares at her, sizing her up. Finally, Gold nods once. "Alright. Let's figure out how to make that happen, shall we?"

~(OUAT)~

When Emma finally steps out of Gold's shop, she picks up her phone and dials August. He'd put his number into her phone a few days ago, after their confrontation at the wishing well. He doesn't pick up, though, and Emma briefly considers going to Granny's and trying to find out which room he's staying in. Finally, though, she just texts him: _Need to talk to you TODAY._

That done, she goes back to the apartment, and as soon as she opens the door Henry's in front of her, grinning. "Emma! Are we breaking the curse?"

"Not today, kid," she says, giving him a sideways hug hello. "Tomorrow."

"Awesome." He steps back, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Is today prep work?"

Emma meets her parents eyes over Henry's head before answering. "No, I thought today we'd just...hang out."

"Cool." Henry spins on his heel and smirks. "Cause I brought something."

He starts rummaging in the backpack leaning against the sofa, and Emma moves toward Mary Margaret and asks in an undertone, "Was Regina home?"

"No, Henry said she left early this morning," Mary Margaret murmurs in reply.

Emma nods, trying not to wonder if Regina's down in the vault now, realizing Graham's gone and that at least one of them believes.

Henry straightens up, brandishing a DVD copy of _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_ and grinning proudly. "I thought it'd be funny to watch," he tells them, eyes sweeping from Emma to his grandparents. "I mean, you guys haven't even actually seen it. You _think_ you have, but you haven't really."

David chuckles, grinning down at his wife. "I'm up for it."

"Oh me, too," Mary Margaret agrees with a smirk. "It's actually pretty cool being famous."

Something loosens in Emma's gut and she laughs, heading to the couch and ruffling Henry's hair as she takes the movie. "Pretty good idea, kid."

"I'll make some popcorn," David says.

"And hot chocolate," Mary Margaret adds. "Cinnamon all around?"

"Yes, please" the other three chorus in reply, and Henry and David grin at each other.

Emma sticks in the DVD and tugs her son onto the couch beside her. Her heart feels full to bursting in her chest, and Emma pulls Graham's jacket tighter around her and promises herself that she will love every minute of this.

~(OUAT)~

They pass the bowl of popcorn back and forth across the couch, and the coffee table is lined with four mugs of hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon.

Emma's on one end of the couch, David beside her. Henry's stretched out, his head pillowed on Emma's lap and his legs draped over David's thighs. Mary Margaret rests her head on her husband's shoulder and keeps cracking them all up with a running commentary, complaining about the inaccuracies of her character (though Emma and Henry do find out that she really does have a certain "way with birds").

"You haven't even pointed out the biggest inaccuracy, Snow," David says innocently after a particularly biting rant that involved the phrase _as if I just sat around cleaning all the time_.

Mary Margaret eyes him suspiciously, "What's that?"

He smirks. "You can't sing."

"Hey!" She backhands him lightly on the chest as Henry and Emma laugh.

"And it's the weirdest thing," David continues conversationally, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Because you're not terrible at humming, that usually sounds fine…but add words and it's just…"

She hits him again, fighting her own smile. "Okay, enough, I'm not _that _bad-"

"Eh," Emma cuts in with a grin, her fingers absently playing with Henry's hair. "I've heard you sing, too, Mare…"

Mary Margaret sits up slightly to look at Emma across David, expression mock affronted. "When?"

"You sing in the shower, _and _you sing when you're cooking, and it's, um…" She makes an apologetic face.

"Oh, of course, you'd take his side," Mary Margaret cuts her eyes at David before rolling her eyes in Emma's direction. "You two are _way_ too similar."

David turns and grins at Emma, bumping his shoulder lightly against hers. "Sorry about that."

Emma smiles back, and for a few blissful seconds she forgets, and she's just _there_, with her son lying against while her mom teases her about being too much like her dad.

Then she remembers, and her smile feels frozen on her face, tears suddenly clawing their way up her throat.

She pulls her gaze away from David's abruptly, and stares hard at the cartoon on the TV without really seeing it, taking slow, even breaths.

After a moment, she regains control, and Emma looks down at Henry and smiles. She smiles even though she wants to scream and cry and rage that she hasn't had enough time with any of them.

"You know another big inaccuracy?" Emma asks casually, relieved at how normal her voice sounds.

"What's that?"

She thinks about their stories from this morning, and it provokes a genuine, teasing grin. "They don't talk about _always finding each other _even once."

~(OUAT)~

They make sandwiches for lunch, and eat them on the floor of the apartment amidst games of Clue and Checkers and any card game Henry can think of. The afternoon passes lazily and happily, and for most of it, Emma succeeds in not thinking about tomorrow.

But after the third or fourth round of Go Fish, Henry leans against the back of the couch and looks at Emma, saying, "So you never told me how you break the curse," and everyone goes still.

She can feel Mary Margaret and David looking at her, trying not to seem too eager. She'd given them minimal information yesterday, making it clear that she didn't want to deal with it until she'd helped Graham, and they hadn't pushed.

She has the lie ready. It's the same lie she'd told Graham, the same one Gold will be telling Regina. But it still sounds wrong and transparent to her own ears, and she can't look at any of them as she answers, "It's not so bad, actually. Gold said that to cast the curse, Regina had to use the heart of the person she loved most…she used her father's." Emma glances at Henry and sees him wince, glad she didn't specify that Regina actually murdered the man he's named after. "I have to destroy it…in the place where there's magic, while Regina's there. That's the only way to strip her of her power when it breaks the curse."

"So…all you have to do is crush one heart?" Henry asks, a faint note of disappointment in his voice.

"That's it," Emma says, trying to sound flippant. "I'll be waiting for her inside, so as soon as she's there, I'll do it."

David's frowning, though, and he and Mary Margaret swap a concerned look before he says carefully, "The heart…will it really be that easy to destroy?"

Emma makes herself look him in the eye. "Gold says it should be. And she can't use magic on it, since it's part of the curse, even down there. So she won't be able to summon it or anything."

Mary Margaret puts in, "But…Emma, think about the bars she had around Graham. If the heart's the key to breaking the curse, I'm sure she'll have it in some sort of…enchanted protection."

"That's the thing, though," Emma says quickly. "Regina doesn't know that's how the curse breaks."

At that, they all look surprised, especially Henry. "She doesn't?"

"No. She knows by now that I'm the one who can break it, but she doesn't know how. And she doesn't know that I know, either."

"So…" Henry purses his lips, brow furrowed in concentration. "If you crush it the _second_ she walks into the vault, she won't even know what you're doing down there…and the curse will break?"

"That's the plan."

"And she won't be able to do magic anymore?"

"Supposedly."

"Wow." A smile spreads across Henry's face, and slowly lifts his eyes to Emma's. "It's really almost over."

"Yeah. Almost over," Emma echoes in a small voice. The smile she gives her son is clumsy and weak as her stomach coils into knots.

She glances at Mary Margaret and David. They seem to be having one of their silent, eye contact only conversations, and she can see their concern battling with the need to not worry Henry.

Before they can decide whether to voice their fears, Emma says firmly, putting an end to the conversation, "So, kid, you bring any other movies?"

"No…" Henry drags his backpack toward him on the floor. "I just brought this book I'm doing my report on." He eyes Mary Margaret, hopefully. "Hey, now that you know you're my grandmother and everything, does that mean I don't have to do homework?"

Mary Margaret laughs, effectively distracted. "You better be kidding, bud."

Henry grins. "I am."

Reaching out to ruffle his hair, Mary Margaret adds, "I _can_ help you if you ever need it though."

"Yeah?" Henry's eyes light up, and he goes rummaging through the bag again, emerging with a notebook. "Could you look at what I have so far?"

"Sure…" Mary Margaret slides toward him on the floor, slipping into teacher mode.

Emma sighs quietly, relieved that the topic passed. She started to pick up their long cleared plates, taking the dishes to the kitchen.

David follows her with empty glasses and mugs, and for a moment they stand next to each other in the kitchen, watching Mary Margaret murmur in a soft, patient teacher tone to Henry.

"Hey." Emma starts at the sound of her father's voice, and then glances over at him, expectant. "Wanna go for a walk?"

Surprised, she blinks at David for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Sure."

~(OUAT)~

For a few minutes, they walk together in easy, comfortable silence around the neighborhood.

Still, Emma can sense that the walk has more purpose than simple quality time, so she's quiet, waiting for him to speak.

He does, finally, just as they turn another corner, as if he'd set himself the distance as a goal. "You know we…we want to be there tomorrow." She looks over at him, not answering immediately. David meets her eyes, his expression earnest. "We know you can do this, but…you don't have to be alone in it." He pauses, then adds quietly, "Or anything else."

Emma wrenches her eyes from his, her chest tightening painfully. "I…thank you." She sucks her lower lip between her teeth and holds it until she's sure she can keep her voice steady, "But I don't want you guys down in the vault."

He sighs. "Emma, I don't like you being down alone with her, not where she can do magic-"

"She won't know what I'm doing there," Emma cuts him off, the lies coming easier now. "She won't even know how much I know, and all I need is a few seconds."

"So then it should be no problem if we're there waiting."

"If something goes wrong-"

"Exactly." David gives her a wry smile, and Emma slowly stops walking, turning fully to face him.

"I _have_ to be there, David," she reminds him. "You two don't."

"But we want to be."

Emma exhales slowly, raking her hands through her hair. "I get that. I do, and it's not that I'm not…it's nice, actually having someone _worry_ about me." His face falls at that, the sadness swelling in his eyes so profound that she wishes she hadn't said it. "But…I care about you guys, too, you know? And, just…it's like with Graham. I can't…_won't_ do anything if I think I'm putting you or Mare at risk."

"We won't be in anymore danger than you."

"Yeah, but, like I said…" Emma reminds him gently. "I _have_ to be." David closes his eyes, expression helpless, and after a moment she relents, "Come with me. Stay in the cemetery, keep a lookout, you'll be close by if something happens….that's the _best_ I can do."

David sighs, his jaw working furiously. Finally, reluctantly, David nods. Then, to Emma's surprise, he shoots her a tiny smile. "You're like her, too, you know?"

"What?"

"Snow. I mean…I know she said you're like me, and I see that, too, and I…I love it." His eyes are shining. "But there's so much of you that just so her…" He laughs a little, his whole face softening. "You're stubborn. And _tough_. Smart. And…protective." He gives her a sweet, tender smile that shoots right to her chest. "You're…everything we could have ever wanted you to be."

A crooked sound pulls itself from her throat, half laugh, half sob. "You guys, too." David makes a face like he might contradict her, so Emma continues in a tight voice, "No, it's…it's funny, cause…when you're little you make up all these…stories, and fantasies about who your parents might be. You know, every little kid in the system thinks at some point or another that their parents are actually…princesses and princes and…" She waves a hand at him, laughing breathlessly. "You guys actually are."

The smile is fading from David's face by degrees, so slow it takes Emma awhile to notice. After a long silence, he says quietly, "You, uh. You were lying before, weren't you?"

Dread knots in her stomach even before she realizes what he means. "About what?"

"This morning, what you said…the foster homes. They…they weren't mostly nice, were they?"

Emma drops her eyes, wondering idly if that's been bothering him all day. She can feel her throat narrowing, memories rushing toward her, and she shoves her hands into the pockets of Graham's jacket, body tensing as she shrinks into herself a little more.

This morning, her surprise and discomfort at the topic had overwhelmed her, and the feeling welling up in her was only a faint inkling. But now, with David's eyes soft and nervous on hers, it's much more than that.

There's a part of her, a selfish and childish part, that wants to tell him. Wants them both to know all of it. Wants them to put their arms around her and say that they're sorry. And she hates herself, because the part of her that wants that feels about five years old. The rest of her knows that it won't make any difference to things that she lived through years ago.

She reminds herself about tomorrow, that she will soon be putting them through enough.

David doesn't need to know. He doesn't need to know about the foster parents that kept locks on the fridge, the ones who got her name wrong and forgot to pick her up at school, the ones who hit and kicked and pushed around. He doesn't need to know about the two and a half days she spent locked in a closet as punishment for some petty, household mishap. He definitely doesn't need to know about the foster father who forbid her from locking her door at night, and would sometimes slip into her bedroom in the darkness…

Still, David is staring at her, anxiously waiting for an answer, and because she's lying to him enough, Emma meets his eyes and answers honestly, "I don't want to tell you guys something that's just going to hurt you. There's no point in…in making you feel guilty over something that's not your fault."

He visibly fights a grimace, and instead tells her gently, "Emma, _you_ don't have to protect _us_. We're your parents."

Emma likes the way he says _your parents_, the weight and warmth of the words, and she gives David a flicker of a smile. "Yeah, I know. But this whole same age thing has to come with s_ome _adjustments, right?"

She starts walking again, and he falls into step beside her, still looking troubled. Emma sighs; leaving him to conjure nightmarish scenarios isn't much better. After all, he still has David Nolan's awareness and knowledge of this world; he must know some of what can happen.

Touching his arm, Emma tells him, "It's really not so bad." He looks unconvinced, and Emma wonders if she inherited her superpower from him. The thought almost makes her smile, but she simply continues, "And we can maybe talk it more. Someday." The word leaves a bitter taste in her throat, and all it does it make her remember that there is no _someday_ for her.

Still, that fact makes her braver, makes certain words come easier. Now she looks at him and says quietly, "Besides, none of that seems to matter much anymore."

That coaxes a smile out of him, and he bumps his shoulder against hers as they walk. "I guess it shouldn't surprise me."

"What shouldn't?"

"You being so tough about everything…" He pauses, and when he speaks again, all his words are soft around the edges. "Right after you were born, when I took you to the wardrobe…you were crying at first, when I took you from your mom, but as soon as we got into the hallway you stopped…there were soldiers of Regina's waiting, she'd sent them to kill you. I had to fight them off so we could get to the wardrobe and you…you never once cried." Emma's heart is pounding, and she's riveted by story. "I was holding you in one arm, and jostling you around like hell and you were still just _quiet_. Like you…knew I was keeping you safe."

His voice hitches, the faraway look falling off his features. There's a storm brewing in his eyes as he thinks of closing his baby girl into that wardrobe, remembering the real reason why she's so tough and independent: she never had an option not to be.

"Hey, don't do that," Emma says, eyeing him. "I recognize parental guilt, David, believe me. I've got plenty of my own."

At that, he casts a surprised look at her, and it hits him all over again that his daughter's a _mom_. "You…feel guilty about Henry?"

"Of course," she answers without a beat of hesitation, like it's obvious. "You know, I was seventeen and barely out of the system, I didn't have a job or a plan or anything…" She stops herself before she says too much, sure her father wouldn't want to hear about her jail time and everything that led to that point. "They tell you…with adoption, you're giving the baby to families who re_ally _want a kid, you know, who are _really _ready for it, and instead he…." Her voice cracks, and David automatically rests a hand on her back, reassuring. "He spent ten years of his life thinking no one loved him."

David stops walking for a moment and looks at her, and she can see in his face that he understands. Of c_ourse_ he does. In a soft voice, he tells her, "You couldn't have known. You wanted what was best for him." He pauses, his face whole face softening. "And now he's got you. He knows you love him."

Emma smiles, and in a soft voice, she says, "That, um. That goes for you, too. All of it. To help _your_ parental guilt."

David understands what she's saying, and he smiles at with so much of his heart that tears spring to Emma's eyes, and her own smile trembles slightly. "Thank you."

For a moment they just stand their, smiling at each other with the same eyes, and finally David says, "C'mere" and slings an arm around her shoulder as they start walking again. "We better get back. Don't want your mother to worry."

~(OUAT)~

Henry and Mary Margaret are bent over the coffee table when they get back, still working on his book report. They both look up, identical grins on their face, when David and Mary Margaret walk in.

"Welcome back," Mary Margaret greets them. "Where've you two been?"

"Oh, you know," Emma says with a smirk. "Walking around. Father/daughter bonding and all that."

Henry laughs, but Mary Margaret swaps a smile with her husband, easily reading in his eyes how much the 'bonding' means to him.

"Hey, Emma, check it out. I finished my book report, and I already know it's good enough to get, like, 100."

Emma grins at her son. "Pretty cool having your grandmother be your teacher, huh?"

"Yeah. You want to see?"

"Of course." Emma drops to her knees behind him on the floor, hooking her chin over Henry's shoulder. "I love a good book report. Lay it on me."

Henry starts to read his paper aloud, Emma looking over his shoulder and smiling fondly. Mary Margaret stands up, nodding at David to meet her in the kitchen.

"Good talk?" she asks him in an undertone.

"Yeah, really good." David's smile is instinctive, and his eyes slide toward the living room, watching his daughter listen attentively to her son. "She's…" he laughs softly, raking a hand through his hair, eyes shining. "She's so great. I mean, we knew that already, you _definitely_ knew that, but just…_our_ _daughter_ is…amazing."

"She is," Mary Margaret agrees, also turning her attention to the living room.

After a moment, David slips his arms around her from behind, and they stand there for a long time, watching their daughter and her son.

~(OUAT)~

"…and that's the end," Henry finishes. He cranes his neck, and Emma draws back slightly so she can look him in the eye.

"_That_ was truly awesome." He grins immediately, proud, and Emma ruffles his hair a little. "Nice work, kid."

"Thanks. Grandma helped, though."

Emma laughs out loud at hearing Mary Margaret actually referred to by the title. "You know, you probably can't go around calling her that in class." She pulls a goofy face, then wraps an arm around his thin shoulders, finding she doesn't want to let her son go. "Probably confuse some people."

"Yeah, probably." Henry smirks, leaning easily against his mother. "It'd be funny though."

Emma rest her chin on the top of his head, and Henry can feel her smile. "It would." Suddenly her phone buzzes, and she reaches her free hand into the pocket of Graham's jacket and pulls it out to see, finally, a reply from August to her text this morning: _When and where?_

She texts back quickly. _Where are you?_

The reply is almost instantaneous. _The B&B._

Emma sighs and quickly send, _Send me your room number, I'm on my way._

Then, shoving the phone back in her pocket without watching for the reply, she drops a quick kiss on the crown of Henry's head and stands up.

Speaking to everyone in the room, she says, "Hey, guys, I gotta run out for a few minutes. Won't be long."

Scrambling to his feet, Henry asks eagerly, "Can I go?"

"You wouldn't want to," she assures him quickly. "Boring. And I'll be back super fast."

Mary Margaret frowns and takes a step toward her. "You going to see Gold?"

She shakes her head. "August." Off David's questioning look, Emma invents quickly, "I owe him an update. But a quick one."

Emma turns and puts her hands on Henry's shoulders, expression serious. "Don't go anywhere, okay? Not before I get back."

"Sure," he agrees easily. "I don't wanna go."

Emma smiles, relieved, then waves to all of them before leaving the apartment.

~(OUAT)~

He's been waiting for her all day, so he barely reacts when she comes storming in.

"_What_ did you do?"

Gold eyes Regina mildly. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, dearie. What is it you think I've done?"

She slams her palms down on one side of the counter. "I think you've been poking around in places that are none of your business."

"Again," Gold flashes the white of his teeth at her. "You'll have to be more specific."

Regina narrows her eyes at Gold, trying to read him. "What's your business with the sheriff?"

Gold lifts an eyebrow in surprise. "The sheriff? Afraid I don't know anything about that." Gold pauses, then adds, "And according to you, you didn't either."

Regina grits her teeth, scrutinizing him. She'd gone into the vault this afternoon to find Graham gone. She can't think why saving his life would benefit Gold in any way. But then again, no one else should be able to get down there…or even have the faintest clue of how to get around the cell's enchantments.

Unless…

"Has Emma Swan come to see you?" Regina demands in a dangerously low voice. "Asking any questions?"

"Haven't seen her since the election, I'm afraid," he replies easily.

Regina's quiet for a moment, her mind racing with implications. "IF she comes to you," she says finally, in tone inviting no argument. "You tell her nothing."

"Why, you wound me, dearie. Of course I have no desire to tell her anything that might help her break the curse." He pauses, then says off handedly, "Though there's no telling what sort of information she might get from that marvelous book of your boy's."

Regina's eyes flash. "I think I'll go pay Miss Swan a visit," she says smoothly. "And sometime soon…I think you and I might need to have a chat. It's high time you let me in on some of your precious secrets. Such as how to break the curse."

With that, she swoops out of his shop, and as the bell on the door rings, Gold murmurs to himself, "As you wish, dearie."

~(OUAT)~

"Hi."

"Hi." Emma sweeps past August and into the small room. He turns around, eyeing the envelopes she's gripping. "What are those?"

"Letters." She'd left them in her car this morning, on her way to Gold's.

"For me?" He asks, half joking.

"No. I just need you to deliver them," she replies, dropping her eyes to the envelopes, hands suddenly shaking. These are her last words to everyone she loves, and she's suddenly second guessing their contents, worried she left something out.

"Okay…." August wrinkles his nose in confusion. "Why am I delivering letters, exactly?"

Emma finally looks up, meeting his eyes, her expression somber. "I figured out how to break the curse. And I'm going to do it tomorrow." His eyes widen and then flood with joy, but before he can speak, Emma continues bluntly, "And breaking the curse means I have to die, so after that happens I'm going to need you to-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. _What_? Who told you that?"

"Gold. Well, Rumplestiltskin."

"_Rumplestiltskin_?" August's eyes are huge. "And you actually trust-"

"I do," she says firmly. "He created the curse, and he wants it broken. So."

"Don't you think you should be sure before-"

"I didn't come here for an opinion, okay?" Emma's voice is sharp, closing the conversation. She doesn't want to talk about this, can barely stand to think about it. "This is happening. All I need from you is the letters, can you do that?"

But August just stares at her with obvious distress, and after a beat or two of silence, Emma sighs. "Look, it's okay, you don't have to…we barely know each other. I'm breaking the curse, it's what you wanted. You're allowed to be happy about that."

He lifts his eyes to hers, a surprisingly genuine look of sorrow etched in his features. "I…I'm sorry."

Emma shrugs, looking away. "You didn't make the rules."

"I just…I'm sorry." August shakes his head, guilt twisting up inside him. "I'm really sorry, Emma. For a lot of things."

She doesn't know what he means, and doesn't ask. Instead, she just waves the letters. "So, can you…?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course." August holds out his hand. "Anything I can do."

"Okay. Um…this is Henry's." She passes it to him, her throat narrowing at the simple sight of her son's name, scrawled on the envelope. "And, um. Mary Margaret's. Here's David's." She hands them over one at a time, then tightens her fingers around the remaining envelope. "This is…this is for Graham," she says finally, but she doesn't give it to him.

"So he's…he's okay?"

"We found him, yeah," Emma says in a hollow voice. "But we couldn't get him out, Regina had him in this…this cell…and we had to send him…" The words knot in her throat, and Emma's suddenly too tired to get onto the whole story. "Look, just give this one…give it to David, alright? Tell him _only_ to give it to Graham if he remembers who I am."

There are questions all over August's face, but one look at Emma keeps him quiet. So he just nods. "Alright."

"Make _sure_ to tell him that. It's important."

"Okay." She still hasn't let go, so after a moment August gently holds out his hand, and Emma finally relinquishes the letter. "Look, I don't know…what exactly happens, when this thing breaks. But just…_promise_ _me_ you'll get those to them. No matter what."

"I promise," August says quietly, his voice rough. Silently, he vows that _this_ promise, at least, is one he'll have to keep.

"Thank you." She turns abruptly and walks out of the room, but August hurries after her, hanging out of the door.

"Emma!"

"What?"

"Just…" He hesitates, fighting with himself, then finally just nods. "Thank you."

She nods once in acknowledgement. "Thank you, for the letters. And…for telling me."

He hangs his head, shame burning. "I…don't thank me."

"Bye, August."

~(OUAT)~

_A/N: Alrighty then. This originally had more scenes, but my The Charming's Final Day together was getting away from me, so I'll tack the rest onto the beginning of next chapter so this doesn't reach an even more epic chapter length. But no worries…Emma still needs a one on one scene with Henry and Mary Margaret. Several more chapters to go, but we are winding down. Love the feedback so ar, hearing from you guys makes my day, so keep it coming! _


	18. Run

_A/N:_ _This is an exceptionally long chapter. Hope you guys don't mind. _

Chapter Eighteen

_To think I might not see those eyes__  
><em>_Makes it so hard not to cry__  
><em>_And as we say our long goodbye__  
><em>_I nearly do_

_Light up, light up__  
><em>_As if you have a choice__  
><em>_Even if you cannot hear my voice__  
><em>_I'll be right beside you dear_

_Louder louder__  
><em>_And we'll run for our lives__  
><em>_I can hardly speak I understand__  
><em>_Why you can't raise your voice to say_

Emma takes a longer route than necessary in the drive from August's to her apartment, trying to let the panic over relinquishing the letter settle before she faces her family.

When she walks in, David and Mary Margaret are sitting on the couch, talking in quiet, serious voices, but they immediately start talking when they notice her. Emma's eyes scan the room. "Where's Henry?"

"Regina came and took him home," David tells her.

"_No_!" Panic shoves the word out before Emma can check herself.

Mary Margaret and David exchange startled glances. "Something wrong?"

"I…" Emma rakes her hand through her hair, schooling her features into a calm expression. "I just didn't want to get him in trouble."

David frowns a little. "She actually seemed surprised he was here, for the first second. She said she came over looking for him, but I don't think she did."

"I think she was looking for you," Mary Margaret adds.

"Probably realized Graham's gone," Emma murmurs. "Wanted to try to figure out if I know…"

But she can't bring herself to focus on Regina. Her mind is racing; she has to see Henry. Emma knows she might not get the chance to see him tomorrow, and she'd had a plan for tonight. She wanted to take him to the castle, just the two of them, and talk…

A plan B forms in Emma's mind, and her lungs loosen a bit. She _will_ see her son one last time, no matter how risky.

Mary Margaret's watching her carefully. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…" Emma focuses on them for the first time since walking in. "Listen I want to talk to you guys about something."

They immediately lean forward on the couch as Emma comes and sits, pulling a chair so she's facing them. "Sure," Mary Margaret says to fill the silence. "What's going on?"

"Look, I just…." Emma's voice trails off, tentative. This is the hardest part, the closest she'll come to admitting there's something to worry about, but she has to say it. She has to make sure. "I'm not worried about tomorrow…" She meets David's eyes, thinking of their earlier conversation. "Like I've said, I've got everything planned and there's nothing to worry about. But…" She stops, the words tangling in her throat.

"It's okay," David prompts gently. He's scrutinizing her closely, recognizing that she's struggling not to worry them but still say what she needs to.

"Just…_just in case_, something happens…" Her voice tightens, the pitch climbing, and she sounds incredibly young when she asks, "You guys will take care of Henry, right?"

For a beat, they're silent, staring at her with a mix of concern and alarm. Then, their voices nearly overlap.

"Oh, Emma, of _course_ we would-

"-but you don't have to worry about that-"

"-you're gonna be fine."

Emma averts her eyes, and it takes her a moment to find her voice again. "I know. And I don't just mean tomorrow, just…things happen. And hopefully after the curse breaks Regina can be…" She makes a soft, scoffing sound. "I don't know what the going punishment is for cursing, but between that and what she did to Graham-" _and what she's going to do to me_, Emma adds silently "-it's gotta be worth some jail time. Or whatever the fairy tale equivalent is."

Mary Margaret's eyes flash and narrow. "She'll answer for this." She glances at her husband, and he nods. "We'll make sure of that." Then, her eyes softens, and she reaches across the coffee table to take Emma's hand. "And of course we will _always_ look out for Henry. He's our grandson, we love him."

Emma nods and lets out a relieved sigh; she'd known, on some level, that of course they'd take care of him, but it's good to hear the reassurance.

But then David catches her eyes and says fiercely, "But, Emma, we _are not_ going to let anything happen to you. Alright?"

She nods, chest constricting as she makes herself look at them. "Yeah. Thanks."

~(OUAT)~

Though it's Saturday, it's David's weekend to feed the animals at the shelter. He takes off after a quick dinner, promising to be back in about an hour.

There's a load of laundry that's been sitting in the dryer for God knows how long, and as Mary Margaret carries the basket of clothes to her room, Emma marvels for a moment that such mundane tasks still exist, even with everything going on.

Then she follows Mary Margaret, sits down on the bed, and absently begins folding towels alongside her.

Mary Margaret glances up and smiles, but she doesn't say anything at first. For a few minutes, they work in companionable silence, finishing quickly. As Mary Margaret carries stacks of towels to her linen closet, Emma stretches out across the comforter, flat on her back but craning her neck and watching Mary Margaret.

Arms empty again, Mary Margaret turns, and grins when she catches Emma staring at her. "What are you thinking so hard about?" she asks, sitting on the bed and looking down at Emma expectantly.

Just like, Emma's breath hitches in her throat. Because her roommate's innocuous question sounds like the start of hundreds of other conversations they've had, and it suddenly feels like she's saying goodbye to two different people: her best friend, _and_ her mother.

"Nothing," she answers finally. "Just…thanks for today. It was…just what I needed."

Mary Margaret laughs wryly, arching an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, we could all use the break from the excitement…getting memories back, trying to break curses. It's exhausting. Sometimes you just want to watch an animated movie _very_ loosely based on your life."

They laugh together, and for a few moments it's simple and easy again, like before.

Then, Mary Margaret's eyes settle on Emma's and melt into a soft, tender expression, and just like that she's Emma's mom again.

Emma can feel herself flushing under Mary Margaret's gaze. "What?"

"Just…" She shakes her head slightly. "Sometimes I don't know how I missed it." Her smile falters a little, eyes intent on Emma's face. "How I didn't know it was you…the second I saw you."

Emma's quiet for a moment, then says, "You _did_ say…remember, after you bailed me out and said that you trusted me. You said it was because you had a weird feeling that we'd met before."

Mary Margaret smiles in realization. "That's true, I did…it was the strangest feeling. Makes sense now, I guess."

Emma smirks a little. "I like that we were friends first." Mary Margaret looks down at her, questioning. "It means you actually like me, for some reason. Not just because parents have to like their kids."

Mary Margaret manages to smile back, but the offhanded _for some reason_ makes her heart sink. She's quiet for a long time, then says softly, "You know when you…were in the hospital, when you got shot." Mary Margaret pauses, tightening her jaw and drawing in a sharp breath; just talking about it's hard. "They told us you weren't going to wake up, and I just…I thought I was gonna lose it. I swear, I barely kept it together." Her expression is pained, and Emma's chest hurts but she can't look away as Mary Margaret continues, "That was…the worst moment of my life." Then, she smiles thinly. "Or I thought it was, anyway. Until I remembered another one."

Emma thinks she knows, but she still manages to unlock the question from her throat. "What?"

"When we sent you away." Her words are barely a whisper, and Mary Margaret reaches out and lets her fingers graze Emma's hair, spread against the comforter, as if she needs tactile proof that her daughter's really there. "We just…I only got a few minutes, and…then Charming had to take you." She forces a shaky smile in spite of the tears gathering in her eyes. "Talk about emotional whiplash. From the best moment of my life to the worst in a couple minutes."

Emma closes her eyes suddenly, a wave of dizziness hitting her.

What Mary Margaret is describing sounds achingly familiar. Because Emma, too, knows what it's like to hold your newborn child, to feel the instantaneous, overwhelming burst of love and connection, only to have him disappear moments later.

For the first time it really hits her, that she is to them what Henry is to her. She's spent the past few days getting used to the idea of Mary Margaret and David as her _parents_. Somehow, it is even harder to think of herself as someone's daughter, someone's child.

And it hits her all over again, with new understanding, how much her death will devastate them.

Emma sits up, and moves back on the bed, leaning on the pillows beside Mary Margaret. Apologies knot up in her throat, but of course she can't say them.

So she slowly turns and meets her mother's eyes, and Mary Margaret smiles a little, moving just a little closer and reaching for Emma's hand. "But we have you back now," she says softly, the words a knife twisting into Emma's heart.

When Emma leans her head against Mary Margaret's shoulder, the schoolteacher goes stone still, afraid to move and break the moment. Then, she hears her daughter's voice, soft and fast, "I'm glad it was you."

Mary Margaret smiles but doesn't comment, and after a moment Emma continues, "You know I'd…been looking for my parents my whole life, and after awhile I kind stopped asking myself what I expected to find, figured I wouldn't like the answer. And…when Henry first told me his whole theory, I didn't believe a word of it, obviously, but afterwards, there would be all these moments, with you, when I would just think…you know, _too bad it's not true, she'd make a really good mom._" Emma cranes her neck and lifts her eyes, smiling a little sheepishly. "So I just…I'm glad it was you."

She can't see her face, but Emma can hear the strength of Mary Margaret's smile in her voice when she says, "Me, too."

~(OUAT)~

When David gets back, Emma pulls Graham's jacket back on and goes to see Henry. She only tells them that she'll be back later, and that she has to explain to Henry about tomorrow, why he can't come. They seem to understand this – "Wish _you_ didn't have to come," David mutters – so Emma borrows David's less conspicuous car, makes sure the walkie talkie is still inside, and heads to the mayor's house.

She parks across the street, watching the windows closely for signs of light. Henry's room darkens at his usual bedtime, and Emma settles back, waiting.

She'd planned to wait until Regina went to bed and sneak in, taking the risk. But twenty minutes after Henry's lights go out, Regina's car pulls away from the house.

Emma tries not to wonder if she's heading to the vault, or to see Gold, and merely accepts this as a stroke of luck. She gets out of the car, zipping Graham's jacket and lifting the walkie talkie to her lips. "Hey, Henry? Kid, you awake?"

There's a long pause, and then his voice, small and crackly, comes over the tiny speakers. "You didn't say over and out."

~(OUAT)~

It's been almost twenty years since she climbed a tree, but Emma does it now, not wanting to explain to Henry over the walkie talkie that Regina's left him alone in the house and she could just use the door.

Besides, he'd seemed really excited to let her crawl in the window.

It's an easy jump from the tree to the roof, and she can already see Henry, his face pressed against the window pane, waiting for her.

He slides the window open, and Emma awkwardly crawls inside.

"Hey!" Henry whispers. He's sleepy eyed but smiling, and as soon as she's inside Henry starts pulling on shoes. "Where are we going?"

"Oh…" Emma touches his shoulder. "We aren't going anywhere, kid. I just wanted to see you." He stops moving, one shoe on his foot, and looks up at her, curious. Emma forces a smile, her stomach already in painful knots. "To make sure you didn't get in trouble for earlier."

"Oh." Nodding, Henry pulls off the shoe and slings it into the corner. "I didn't, really. She just _lectured_." He pads over to his bedroom door and turns the lock, then turns to look at Emma expectantly. "Do you have to go?"

Emma takes a moment to just look at her son. Now barefoot in red flannel pajamas, his dark hair slightly tousled.

Her heart turns over in her chest, her throat tightening. "No, I was thinking I'd stay for awhile." She peels off Graham's jacket and sits on the edge of his bed, leaning against the headboard. She pats the space beside her, an invitation.

Henry's eyes light up, and he comes tumbling under the covers beside her. Emma immediately wraps an arm around him, and that's all the prompting the boy needs to cuddle against her. She curls her arm up, absently weaving her fingers through his hair.

"Have I told you…" She'd planned this, but it's physically painful to pull every word from her throat. "Have I told you about the night you were born?"

"Nope, you haven't," he replies instantly, a note of awestruck delight in his voice.

Emma's lips quirk upward, her voice teasing, "Think I should?"

"_Yes_." Henry's answering before the final syllable leaves her lips. "Please."

"Okay." Emma pauses. "So you already know it was-" She sighs. "-in jail."

"Yeah…" Henry hesitates, then asks quietly, "Emma? Can I…ask a question?"

"Sure, kid," she assures him softly, guessing what he's wondering. "You can ask anything you want."

"What'd you do?"

"I…got arrested for possession of stolen goods. You know what that means?" She cranes her neck to look down at him, reading the uncertainty on his face. "It means someone I knew gave me some stuff they stole."

"But that's not your fault," Henry says, frowning. "They really put you in jail for that?"

"Well, I knew they were stolen, Henry," she admits. "I…made some mistakes when I was younger and…that's what happened."

Henry's quiet for a moment, but Emma feels him nestle closer, and relief seeps through her at the gesture, as she loses an anxiety she hadn't even realized she had.

Henry smiles up at her expectantly, and that one look confirms it: her son doesn't think she's any less of a hero, and Emma continues in a soft, gentle whisper, "I had just started my sentence when I found out I was pregnant but…I knew I wouldn't, um. I wouldn't be out yet by the time you were born."

Her voice catches. Already each word is small and tight, and she hopes Henry can't feel her shaking. "So…the thing is." She pauses, gritting her teeth. She has to speak in halting phrases, the only way to keep her voice steady. "The thing is, you would've been…put into the foster system. And…I would've had about, um…at least a year and a half left in jail. And, Henry…I knew that…once you were in the system, I couldn't just…get you back. I'd have to prove that I had, um, a job, and a house…I didn't have those, and I didn't know how long it would take to get them, and…"

Her throat closes, and in the momentary silence Henry takes Emma's free hand, absently tracing patterns on her palm and down the length of her fingers, waiting patiently.

She starts again, "Henry, I didn't know how long it would take me to get you back. And I was…I was seventeen, I knew I couldn't take care of a baby but I still…I still _wanted_ you. I'd never had family before and…I kept wondering what you'd look like, if you'd look like me."

"Do you think I do?" he asks in a small, eager voice, half muffled against her shirt.

"Yeah, I do." Emma smiles a little, and she relaxes a little. "Mary Margaret says we both have her chin." She drops her hand from his hair and grips his chin playfully, eliciting a soft giggle.

Her smile fades, as she continues. "Henry, you…you know I grew up in the foster system and I…I was s_o scared_ that it would take me years to get you out, and I didn't want that for you. I didn't want you to go through any of that." Her son has gone completely still now, and Emma leans away just enough to look him in the eye, but as soon as she does, her vision blurs with tears. "I _couldn't_ do that to you because… Henry, I loved you…from the _second_ I realized that you were coming. And you would…I could feel you moving around, and you would kick…"

She lets out a breathless laugh as a tear slips down her cheek, and Henry curls against her again, his cheek pressed against her shoulder. "You kicked _so_ hard, all the time. I decided you'd probably play soccer or something. And for the longest time, I…didn't want to think about what was going to happen when you were born. I'd pretend that everything was normal, that I'd…get to keep you. And I imagined it like it _would be_ normal but…then it was getting too close to my due date, and I had to decide. And I…I c_ouldn't_ let you go into the system, Henry. I knew what I was like, and I couldn't."

There's a pleading note in her voice, like she's looking for reassurance, for a sign that he understands. "So I got my lawyer, the…public defender. She was the one who talked to me about adoption and I couldn't…I couldn't be very involved, from in there, I couldn't…pick out parents or anything, but she promised…she promised me you would go to someone who would take care of you, and love you, and I just…I wanted that for you."

Emma goes quiet for a moment, her heart pounding, a few more tears sliding down her face. She's waiting for Henry to speak, but he doesn't, and his face is half hidden against her shirt.

Finally, she just continues, all pretense of steadiness gone from her voice. "I was supposed to get a field trip to the hospital when you were born, but _you_…" She tousles his hair a little, hoping to get him to look up. "…were in too much of a hurry. You were two weeks early, in the middle of the night, and it was pretty fast, so they didn't have a chance to move me from the jail."

All the edges of her words fall away, every syllable softening with tenderness. "They let me hold you for about twenty minutes, when they were waiting for the adoption lawyer to show up. You were so little, not even seven pounds, and you had all this dark hair already…I remember you, you kept holding my pinkie." Almost unconsciously, Henry's fingers lightly trace her pinkie finger now. "You were just…you were _perfect_, and I loved you." Her voice splinters. "And then they took you away and I just…I cried, for literally the first time in about five years."

Henry's fingers finally slide between hers, but he still doesn't look up.

"I just…wanted you to know. That I didn't do it because I didn't want you. Or because I didn't love you." She kisses the crown of his head, tears streaming, and for a few moments Emma keeps her lips pressed against him, throat convulsing as she fights back sobs.

When she sits up, so does Henry, and she finally gets a glimpse of his face. Immediately, her chest constricts; he looks distressed, a slow growing panic brewing in his eyes.

Emma wilts, worried that she's messed up, that the story didn't convey what she meant it to, that she's somehow made it worse, until Henry opens his mouth and says the last thing she expects.

"You're scared about tomorrow, aren't you?"

"What?"

There's a panicked note in Henry's voice, and the words slip out fast, his whisper gradually fading into a more normal tone, "You _never_ sneak in here at night. But you came over here _tonight_, the night before you break the curse, to tell me all that stuff without me even having to ask. You _said_ it wasn't going to be dangerous, but….Emma, you're worried, aren't you?"

"Oh, Henry…" She cups his cheek, calming her voice by necessity, needing to reassure him. "It's not that dangerous, and I'm…I'm not that scared, but. There's always a risk. You know that, right?" She smiles weakly at him. "It's not a good story without some risk right?"

Henry lowers his eyes, his brow furrowed, and he's quiet for a long moment. "Emma?"

"Yeah, kid?"

He lifts his gaze, and Emma's heart clenches. Tears glitter in his eyes, and his lower lips i trembling. "You don't have to do it, if you don't want to."

For a second, Emma can't speak. Finally, she chokes out, "Come here…" She pulls him into a hug, and Henry lifts himself onto his knees on the mattress so he can bury his face in her shoulder. Emma rubs his back in slow, gentle circles, fighting a fresh wave of tears.

Finally, when she can unknot the words from her throat, Emma murmurs in his ear, "I'm going to break it, Henry. Because when you first came and found me…I said I was here to help you, and everyone else here. I want to do that for you. I want to show you that good can win." She kisses the side of his head and pulls back, giving him a tremulous smile. "Everything's gonna get better, Henry. I promise."

He smiles finally, trusting her, and then he slides back under the covers and cuddles against her again. Emma can barely breathe, and she forces herself to believe that it's true, that he'll be okay, that he and Mary Margaret and David will be a family without her.

His fears assuaged, Henry starts asking questions, hungry for any detail. _What time was I born? Was I really that small? Did I cry a lot? Did you know I was a boy? _

Each word rips through her, but Emma resolutely answers each question.

Then, almost shyly, Henry asks, "Did you…think about me ever? After?"

"Every day," she tells him fervently. "For your whole life."

He hides his smile in the folds of her shirt. "Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think…after the curse breaks, do you think I could start calling you…Mom?" The final word is tentative, and he's thinking about the hospital, the only other time he used it, and how he's been wanting to every since.

A sob rounds in Emma's throat, and her chest is shaking as she forces out an answer, "You, um. You don't have to wait until then."

He grins, lifting his eyes so he's looking at her when says, "Okay…Mom."

Emma reaches out and cradles his face in her hands, saying with quiet, fierce conviction, "I love you, Henry. More than anything."

"I love you, too. _Mom_." He hugs her again, and Emma closes her eyes, holding him tightly. When he lets go, Henry lays against her again, tiredness starting to seep into his eyes. "Will you stay for a little while?"

"Sure." Emma slides a little lower in the bed, and Henry drapes an arm around her waist and rests his head on her stomach. "Hey, Henry…I need to tell you about your job tomorrow, okay?"

Excitement fights the exhaustion in his voice. "What do I get to do?"

"I need you to call me in the morning, as soon as Regina leaves the house. So you gotta watch her, okay, can you do that?"

"Yeah…then where do I meet you?"

"Henry, I can't…I can't let you come, okay? I can't do this if I don't know you're safe-"

"But I can help!"

"Mary Margaret and David aren't even coming into the vault with me," Emma tells him firmly. "But once it's broken…" She closes her eyes. "…we'll come get you, okay?"

"Alright," he agrees, his reluctance evident in his voice, but he's too tired to argue.

"But your part's really important, okay? So you can't forget to call."

"I won't," he murmurs.

Emma can feel his whole body relax, and she begins stroking his hair. "Goodnight, Henry."

"Don't go anywhere yet…"

"I won't," Emma replies thickly.

"Night, Mom," he mumbles.

"I love you." Her voice breaks.

"Love you, too."

Within a few minutes, his breathing slows and evens out. As soon as she realizes he's asleep, something in Emma's chest cracks open and she starts to sob.

She lifts one hand from Henry and clamps it over her mouth, determinedly staying silent. Her chest and throat are aching with the effort, and tears stream endlessly down her cheeks, and she replays her son calling her _mom_ in a constant loop. She memorizes the weight of his body draped over her, the fresh smell of his shampoo, the softness of his hair and the ease with which it slips through her fingers, as if these senses are things she can carry with her into whatever comes next.

She stays there for nearly an hour, unable to pull herself away. Then, she hears the distant rumble of Regina's car turning into the driveway, and Emma's nerves go on alert.

There's a good chance Regina will check in on Henry when she gets home, and if she finds the door locked she's sure to panic and burst inside.

Reluctantly, a physical pain rippling through her, Emma moves away from her son. She lifts Henry gently off her, settling him onto his pillow. He twists a little before settling, and Emma carefully stands and moves to the bedroom door, unlocking it just as she hears the creak of a door opening downstairs.

After grabbing Graham's jacket from where she'd discarded it on the floor, Emma bends over Henry's sleeping figure, tears coming faster now, and kisses his cheek, whispering a final and broken, "I love you, Henry."

There are distant footsteps downstairs, and Emma hurries to the window, sliding it open and casting one long, last look at her son before she forces herself to slip outside.

Her legs feel weak and useless beneath her, but Emma crosses the roof and slips down the tree in a dazed, disconnected way.

She runs across the lawn, across the street, and jumps into David's car.

Only then does she let herself cry out loud, and the first sob is more like a scream.

~(OUAT)~

The apartment's dark, except for the flicker of the television. David and Mary Margaret are curled up on the couch, but they mute the TV and sit up slightly when she walks in.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Emma says, wincing when she hears the scratchy, raw sound of her voice. She clears her throat before continuing. "I explained everything to him."

"That's good."

David slides over on the couch, smiling at Emma. "You want to watch?"

"Sure," she agrees without even trying to identify the movie on the TV, and Emma gratefully settles onto the couch between her parents, glad for the darkness so they don't notice her red, puffy eyes.

But she feels David looking at her, and maybe he notices anyway but chooses not to comment. Instead, he tentatively stretches his arm across the back of the couch, and is surprised when Emma immediately leans against him. He drops his arm around her shoulders, and Mary Margaret slides closer to her on the other side.

They watch an old, black and white movie but Emma barely pays attention. She's fighting an internal war between her desperate need to enjoy these last moments and her parent's presence, and the constant, panicked fear that it'll be cut short at any second.

After awhile, Emma rests her head on David's shoulder, and he slides his eyes over to Mary Margaret, meeting her gaze. They smile at each other, with a shared sense of contentment.

They're quiet for most of the movie, and when the credits roll, Mary Margaret stretches, rolling her neck and scooting forward on the couch. "We should probably get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

Emma catches her bottom lip between her teeth, barely stopping herself from calling out in a childish protest for them to stay with her.

She doesn't want them to go to bed. She'd gladly sit up with them all night, not even talking, just being there.

But she can't say that. That would be suspicious. So instead, Emma just nods. "Yeah, probably a good idea."

David smiles at her before disengaging his arm and standing up. "Night, Emma."

"Goodnight." She forces a smile at both of them, and Mary Margaret returns it warmly, squeezing Emma's shoulder gently.

"This time tomorrow…it'll all be over," she says reassuringly.

Emma's smile wilts, and she nods jerkily. "Yeah."

"Night," her parents voices blend together and they start toward the bedroom. Mary Margaret calls over her shoulder, "Get some sleep."

"I will," Emma murmurs, watching them go and then falling back on the couch, emotionally exhausted.

She doesn't want to sleep, already far too aware of how quickly her time is falling away.

Emma can hear the soft, distant murmurs of her parents' voices, but eventually they go quiet, and she's left with the silence of the apartment.

She lies there for awhile, listening to the wall clock ticking, reveling in the slowness of time's passing. Emma drags Graham's jacket toward her, spreading it over her like blanket.

After wearing it all day, it's harder to find his scent.

Abruptly, Emma stands up, pulling the jacket on, grabbing her keys, and leaving the apartment.

~(OUAT)~

They hadn't spent many nights here, since she'd been recovering at home after the hospital, but Emma still has a key to his place.

As soon as she opens the door it hits her, in that unique, unquantifiable way that other people's homes smell like them.

His bed is unmade, and Emma practically falls onto it, burrowing her face in the pillow and breathing him in.

"Graham…" His name tumbles out, soft and secret, like she just wants to remember what her voice sounds like saying it.

Emma lies there for twenty minutes, until she starts to get used to the smell. She stands up, then, and begins wandering around the apartment. In the living room she unearths an ancient answering machine, connected with a landline telephone she didn't even know he had.

With shaking fingers, Emma presses the button to play the recording.

_Hello, you've reached Graham Humbert. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you. _

A high, dizzy laugh bursts out of her even as the tears start to fall. Emma unplugs the answering machine from the phone line and carries it back into the bedroom.

She falls onto his bed again, the scent hitting her fresh, and over and over she plays the message, her eyes closed, his voice overwhelming her, listening to Graham tell her he'll get back to her and wishing that it was true.

~(OUAT)~

She sleeps without meaning to, for a few hours in Graham's bed, but Emma's still awake and back at her own apartment by sunrise.

David wakes up first, smiling curiously at his daughter when he finds her in the kitchen. "Morning. When did you become such an early riser?"

"Oh you know…" Emma shrugs vaguely. "Guess I've gotten used to not getting much."

His eyes soften and he grins. "Bet you anything Snow starts trying to remedy that after today." David rests a hand lightly on her back until Emma looks up at him. "You nervous?"

"No," she replies immediately. "No, I'm…ready. For it to be over."

"Me, too."

Mary Margaret emerges soon, and the three of them make a quick breakfast of waffles and eggs and cinnamon toast.

"Do you put cinnamon on everything?" David asks his wife teasingly, as she sprinkles a generous amount on buttered slices of bread.

"You've never complained," she shoots back dryly.

Emma's hands are shaking as she pours glasses of orange juice.

"Ready to eat?"

They sit down at the table, and Emma drops her eyes to the plate. _My last meal_, she thinks idly, and on the heels of that, she has the bizarre desire to laugh.

The food is dry and tasteless on her tongue, and her stomach feels like it contracts with every swallow.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret's watching her with concern. "Everything okay? You're not eating."

"Yeah." She lets her fork drop onto the plate. "I'm just…I just want to get this done. I don't want to wait."

It's both true and not true. She's terrified, dreading walking away from them, dreading the moment everything ends. But at the same time, each moment with them, each moment she puts it off, feels like tearing viciously at open wounds. Even the good moments hurt, now, and Emma can't take it much longer.

Her parents exchange a look. David grimaces slightly, then nods. "Okay. You want to call Gold?"

"Yeah." Emma stands up, grabbing her phone. "Let's do it."

He picks up on the second ring and, with no preamble, says, "Ready so soon, dearie?"

"Yeah, I'm ready," Emma grits out in a flat, controlled voice. "Call Regina."

~(OUAT)~

She changes clothes in her room while they wait for Henry's call. White tank top, jeans, boots. The same outfit she'd been wearing when she first came to Storybrooke, though she swaps her favorite red jacket for Graham's.

She pulls his badge out and puts it on, the first time she's done so, having preferred to keep wearing the deputy badge even while Graham was missing. She slips Graham's gun into an ankle holster…loaded with one bullet.

If it comes to the gun, she knows that's a risk…she might not die right away, but stripping Regina of her powers is no good if she leaves her armed, especially with David and Mary Margaret in vicinity.

Emma stares at herself in the mirror, thinking what a strange sensation it is: a last look at herself.

Then her phone buzzes, and Emma must have her last conversation with her son.

"Henry?"

"Hey, Mom." She can hear the smile in his voice, his delight in using the name, and Emma's eyes burn instantly with hot, stabbing tears.

"Is she gone?"

"Yeah, she just left. She looked mad."

"Alright. You did really good, Henry. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Are you going now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am…" Emma hesitates, swallowing against the lump in her throat. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay. Good luck." He sounds so happy. So certain that everything's about to get better.

"Thanks." Emma moves the phone away from her for a moment, sucking a crooked, gasping breath before she can speak. "I love you, Henry? Okay.? I…I love you."

"I love you, too," he replies easily. "Come get me right after, okay?"

"Yeah, kid, I will."

"Bye, Mom."

"Bye, Henry. Love you." The words are barely a breath, and she has to hang up before she loses it, before she triggers another bout of his fear.

The phone slips from her fingers and Emma's body jackknifes; she crumples at the waist, ending up on her knees, one fist braced on the floor, the other held against her mouth. She digs her teeth into her knuckles, so hard she breaks skin, until the need to cry passes.

Her face is calm when she emerges, and she meets David's eyes and then Mary Margaret's. "Let's go. She's on her way to Gold's."

~(OUAT)~

Regina sweeps into Gold's shop, her whole body radiating tension.

"What happened?," she demands tersely.

Gold flashes a smile. "Just doing as you instructed, dearie. Miss Swan came around asking odd questions, I alerted you."

"_What_ odd questions?"

"Was particularly curious about any location in Storybrooke that might still have…magic."

Regina's whole body stiffens, though only her eyes betray the fury and devastation of the confirmation of her suspicion: Emma Swan believes.

Oblivious to her reaction, Gold continues mildly, "I also did some questioning on your behalf…turns out the girl _did _locate the sheriff. She mentioned it was extremely difficult to free him….and the, independently of me, of course, Miss Swan seemed to draw the conclusion that there is magic there."

"_And_?," Regina growls.

"And what?"

"You told her nothing, I assume?" She eyes him dangerously.

"Never fear. I mentioned nothing about how to break the curse. Although the questions she asked…it's very possible she already knows." He smiles innocently. "The book is a wealthy source, no doubt."

"What questions were those?" Regina looks like she's ready to jump across the counter and strangle him.

"Oh, just ordinary questions. Whether you keep hearts down there, as well. Whose heart you used to cast the curse. That sort of thing."

Regina's eyes widen, her whole face reddening with rage. Suddenly she's leaning toward him, gripping his collar. "Listen, you fool. I've had enough with your games and your secrets. _Tell me how she could break the curse._"

Gold smiles at her, fully aware he holds the power in spite of her current grip on him. "Dearie, it would be my pleasure."

~(OUAT)~

The three of them are gathered at the edge of the cemetery, quiet and tense, when Emma's phone rings. She snatches it up immediately. "Yeah?"

Gold's voice answers, "She's on her way. Very unpleasant visit."

"You told her everything?" Emma asks shortly.

"I did." There's a pause, then Gold says in a quiet, solemn voice, "Miss Swan?"

"Yeah?"

"Good luck."

She makes a quiet sound of acknowledgement and then hangs up the phone. She turns to face Mary Margaret and David. "Regina's on her way."

"Okay." David claps his hands together, eyes taking on a glinting, focused look, though the color is draining rapidly from his face. "Let's finish this."

"Be careful," Mary Margaret tells her, desperation etched in her face.

"We'll be right out here," David puts in.

"You're gonna be fine."

"It'll be over soon."

Emma stares at them, words leaving her. Her heart feels like it's made of glass, too heavy and thin walled to handle the onslaught of emotions.

So she hugs them at the same time, arms tight around their waists, her face pressed against David's shoulder. She feels her Mary Margaret's lips brush her hairline, and it's amazing how safe they make her feel, in spite of what's about to happen.

She doesn't want to let go, but of course she has to. Emma pulls back so she can look at them, meeting first her mother's eyes and then her dad's, when she says, "I love you." She shifts her eyes back and forth. "I love you both. A lot."

Mary Margaret gasps quietly, her eyes welling with tears. David's whole body goes weak, letting out a crooked, gasping sob.

"We love you, too," they say it together and then laugh breathlessly.

"More than anything," Mary Margaret adds, at the same time David says, "So much."

Words well up in her throat, tangling in their hurry to get out, but Emma reminds herself desperately that this can't sound like a goodbye, or even a _just in case_.

She hugs them both again, one at a time, but it's quick, all arms and shoulder blades.

Then she smiles at them, and it hurts to hold but it's how she wants them to remember her. "I'll see you soon."

She can barely breathe as she turns around and walks away from them.

~(OUAT)~

Henry's restless.

He hates waiting for things to happen. The Queen's only been gone for ten minutes, and he can't sit still.

The next few hours are going to be _torture._

He knows what Emma said, but he can't just sit here, waiting. If he starts walking now, he'll maybe get to the cemetery right when the curse is broken.

~(OUAT)~

It's a fight not to turn around as she walks to the mausoleum, so it's a strange kind of relief once she's inside, the door closed behind her, so Emma couldn't see them if she wanted to.

She goes down the steps, into the place where she last saw Graham. She retrieves the heart first thing, from the drawer Gold had told her to check. Emma tries not to shudder as she slides it into the inside pouch of Graham's jacket; Regina can't know she has it right away.

That done, there's nothing to do but wait.

Emma lifts her eyes, sighing. She knows that somewhere above her, David and Mary Margaret are spread out in the cemetery, crouched behind other big mausoleums or trees, watching for Regina.

Emma forces her mind to go blank. She doesn't want to think about Mary Margaret and David running down here, finding her dead. She doesn't want to think about them going to tell Henry, how he'll be expecting celebration and excitement and _her_. She doesn't want to think about them finding Graham, him looking around for her, them having to tell him…

If he remembers, that is.

Suddenly, Emma tenses, hearing the creak of the heavy mausoleum door being pulled open. Then the tapping of footsteps, descending the stairs.

Regina appears, and it's only for a nanosecond that she allows her rage and worry flicker over her face, as her eyes dart automatically to the wall of hearts, one particular drawer.

In the next instant, her features smooth into a cool, detached politeness. "Well, Miss Swan. I have to say, I underestimated you." Her lips curl. "Though I suppose that's inevitable. My expectations were so low, you could only rise above them."

For a moment, Emma can't speak. She's unprepared for the sharp, burning fury that crashes against her as soon as she sees Regina, the first time she has since finding Graham, since learning the full extent of what Regina's done to him, to her whole family.

The weight of everything she's lost, of all the pain Regina has inflicted on the people Emma loves, hits her, and Emma takes a few steps forward, practically snarling, "_Fuck _you."

"Such a temper." Regina's tone and countenance are mild, but she's gradually easing between Emma and the wall of hearts. She waves a hand at their location. "Since you're down here, you've obviously been made aware of your station in life." She smirks. "A _princess_, even one without a throne, shouldn't use such language."

Emma feels dizzy with rage. She hadn't counted on this, on how much she'd want to make Regina pay…

"And I didn't even get to congratulate you on the most impressive feat." She nods at the cell behind Emma. "I don't know what you've done with Graham, but-"

"_Don't._ You don't get to say his name," Emma bites out. "Graham's safe. And you'll never touch him again, you poisonous-"

"Now, now. Let's not resort to name calling, shall we?" Regina's still moving, inch by inch toward the wall of hearts, but she doesn't take her eyes off Emma. "Just because you're bitter, Miss Swan, that I had him for _decades_ more than you did." She smiles nastily. "Every _inch_ of him."

Emma's stomach rolls sickeningly, her hands curling into fists. It's all she can do to stay rooted in spot, not to attack.

Regina finally reaches the wall, and she spins abruptly and pulls the drawer the open.

Her back's to Emma, so she can't see her face, but she sees the moment she stiffens.

Finally, it's Emma's turn to smirk. "Looking for this?"

She pulls the heart from her pocket. Regina whirls around, her face going white, confidence faltering for a moment.

Then she raises her hand and lazily flicks it.

The heart doesn't move, and Regina's eyes widen.

She flicks her hand again, a different motion, and it's like an invisible force picks Emma up and hurls her. There isn't far to go in the small room, and her back slams against the bars. Another hand motion from Regina, and the bars distort, wrapping tightly around Emma's waist. She's struggling to keep her grip on the heart.

Her heart is pounding, adrenaline pumping. The bars tighten, and Emma has to gasp for breath. "Come closer," she grits out. "And I'll squeeze."

Regina tries, again, to summon the heart, but the magic has no effect on it. She narrows her eyes, apoplectic with rage. "_Drop_ it."

Emma tightens her fist around it, defiant. "You're going to lose," she gasps out as the bars tighten. "And Graham, and my parents, and _Henry_…they're finally going to be safe from _you_." Emma brings up her other hand, making like she's about to crush the heart.

Abruptly the bars drop her, and Emma crashes against the stone floor and crumples in a heap. Dimly, she's aware of Regina standing over her, reaching down…

Emma rolls her body, clutching the heart between her stomach and the ground, and Regina grabs hold of her hair, trying to jerk her off. Hands fumbling, Emma stuffs the heart back in the inside pocket, worried Regina will simply grab it.

"You're just like your mother," Regina snarls. "A worthless, nosy little brat who doesn't know her place."

A low growl rises from Emma's throat, and she lets her whole body go limp. Regina loosens her grip slightly, and Emma spins abruptly, wrenching away and slamming her fist against the other woman's jaw.

"_Don't_talk about my mom like that," Emma informs her flatly, as Regina reels back, one hand clutching her face.

~(OUAT)~

David feels sick.

Regina went in almost ten minutes ago. According to Emma, it should have been quick, a tough squeeze on the heart the second Regina was inside.

He's been fighting with himself for five minutes. He leans out from behind a tree, searching for his wife's gaze, but he can't see her from behind another tree, on the opposite side of the mausoleum.

_Screw it._

She's his _daughter_. And obviously something's already broken from the plan.

David starts running toward the mausoleum. He's fifteen yards away when something flat slams against his back, sending him sprawling.

David rolls over, and finds himself staring up at Mr. Gold, holding David's own sword on him. The older man smiles down at him, "Try that again, and I'll have to use the sharp end."

He's lightheaded, the wind knocked out of him. Fear breathes down the back of his neck like a monster, his brain dizzily trying to catch up.

The only conclusion he can draw is that Gold's working for Regina, that it's all been a trick. "You…you lied to Emma."

"No," Gold says, the slightest bit of pity flashing in his eyes. "She lied to _you_."

"Wha….what?" Out of the corner of his eye, David sees his wife running toward him. And though he doesn't know what Gold means, what Emma supposedly lied about, he knows something's wrong. "SNOW! GO TO EMMA!"

Mary Margaret pulls up short, halfway between him and the mausoleum, torn between her husband's immediate danger and the implications of his desperate command.

"GO! _PLEASE_." This time the fear in his voice is palpable, and Mary Margaret's heart skitters as she turns and runs toward their daughter.

Gold glances after her, momentarily torn, and David uses the distraction to launch himself at the other man's legs.

~(OUAT)~

Regina's decided to try pain.

With easy flicks of her wrist, she's slamming Emma from wall to floor to wall, keeping her constant motion so she can't crush the heart.

"This doesn't stop until you hand it over!" Regina calls out calmly over the rhythmic thud of Emma's body.

Emma's head feels like it's cracking open, her whole body aching. There's sweat burning her eyes, and she can feel the weight of the heart against her stomach, still in the pocket. Dimly, she thinks that Regina isn't as smart as she thinks; if she'd wanted to, Emma still would have had ample time to crush it by now.

"Why don't you come and get it," Emma forces out as she hits the floor. "instead of hiding behind your magic."

Baring her teeth, Regina sends her a particularly far distant, and Emma's spinning when she hits the far wall, her vision flickering black for a moment.

Then, she hears, "EMMA!"

_No, no, no_….

Panicked, she looks up just in time to see Mary Margaret go flying against an opposite wall.

"NO!" Emma cries out, scrambling to her feet, her legs throbbing and weak beneath her.

Regina keeps a hand out, keeping Mary Margaret pinned there, suspended in the air. She throws Emma a triumphant grin. "Hand over the heart…._fully_ _in tact_. Or I'll kill her."

"Emma, don't-"

Emma can't look at Mary Margaret. She holds Regina's eyes, lifting her hands. "Okay…okay…"

Heart hammering, she bends down, and instead of pulling out the heart, she grabs the gun from her ankle, and sprint between Mary Margaret and Regina, making sure she's the first target.

Regina laughs at her. "Really?" She waves her hand and the gun flies from Emma's grip into Regina's.

"_Emma_." Mary Margaret's voice is terrified, but Emma still can't look at her, tears welling in her eyes and mingling with the sweat. She steps more deliberately between the two women, making sure Regina doesn't have a shot on Mary Margaret and Emma lifts the heart out of her pocket and grips it.

"You're done," she tells Regina in a low voice.

She tightens her fingers noticeably.

Regina pulls the trigger, and for the second time in her life, a bullet rips through Emma.

"_NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" _Mary Margaret's anguished scream fills the room, and the bullet may as well have pierced her own heart.

Emma falls, blood spreading on her white tank top like a sunburst, starting in the center of her chest.

The world tilts and spins, sound sucked into a vacuum. She's dimly aware of Regina clicking the gun again in her direction, uselessly. Of Regina plucking the heart easily from the ground.

"Enjoy the rest of your time together," Regina says with a triumphant, nasty smile as she lets Mary Margaret drop to ground behind Emma's prostrate body.

"Emma…Emma, look at me…." Mary Margaret's on her knees, and she peels off the cardigan she's wearing, pressing it against Emma's wound. Her voice is a broken, quivery mess. "You're gonna be okay, just hold on, honey…" With one hand, Mary Margaret pulls out a cell phone and shakily dials 911. "I'm going to call an ambulance, you're gonna be fine…"

"No…don't….Mare…." Emma's words are small and watery. She can taste blood, in the back of her throat. "Can't…"

"CHARMING!" Mary Margaret yells, voice borderline hysterical. Then she speaks into the phone. "I need an ambulance, at Forest View Cemetery…."

Her voice seems to be coming through a fog. Emma's seized with a brutal coughing fit, and she rolls her head to the side, watching blood spatter onto the stone ground.

The phone clatters from Mary Margaret's hand. There are tears streaming down her cheek, and she holds the sweater with one hand, the other one stroking Emma's cheek. "You're gonna be okay, Emma just hold on, help's coming…"

"Don't…stop…" Emma gasps out. She's trying to pull the sweater away, but her arms don't seem to be working like she wants them to. "I have to…die…"

"You are _not_ gonna die," Mary Margaret chokes out, fiercely. "Look at me, sweetheart, you aren't gonna die…"

Emma coughs again, hard, blood flying. "No…" She pours every ounce of strength she can into her voice, "I _have _to."

Mary Margaret's face tightens. "What?"

"It's….it's the only way to…b-break the cur…the curse…" Emma draws a breath, feeling the liquid rattling in her lungs. Tears fall from the corner of her eyes, and her voice hitches as she whispers, "I'm sorry, M-Mom, I'm so… so sorry…"

At the word, Mary Margaret's face crumples, a whimper lurching out her. "No. I won't let you…we _just_ got you back, we are not losing you again…the curse doesn't matter, Emma, _you hold on_."

Suddenly, footsteps clatter down the stairs, and David appears.

He lets out a strangled scream, dropping to his knees beside his daughter, her name tumbling from his lips. "Emma, oh God, Emma…."

"I called an ambulance," Mary Margaret manages to say. "She says…she says the curse can only break if she dies."

Gold's words come back to him: _She lied to you._

A wave of nausea rolls over him, the bitter, acidic taste of bile rising in the back of his throat.

"Screw the curse," he says immediately, meeting Emma's eyes, the mirror image of his own. "Emma. Listen to me. You d_o not get to die, _understand?"

The sweater is red and soaked through, and David presses his hands over it more firmly, crimson immediately staining his palms. Tears drip off his chin, but he keeps his eyes locked with Emma's, murmuring, "Just hang on…just a little while longer…don't worry about the curse, Emma…you're gonna be okay….keeping looking at me…"

Mary Margaret shifts, pulling Emma's head gently onto her lap, and continues stroking her hair. She's sobbing now, short, quiet gasps, as she watches the life drain from her daughter in degrees.

Emma shakes her head a little, and with a last ditch effort, she lifts her hand and rests it on top of David's. She wants to pick it up, to move his hand away from her wound, make him stop trying to save her, but can't make her fingers work. "Pl-please," she begs. She has to do this, he has to let her.

There are sirens in the distance. "Just hold on…" David gasps out. His whole body is trembling.

"No…_please_." Emma whimpers, each word soaked with blood and tears. "Dad, please…"

"Emma…" His voice falls to pieces, a low, terrified howl lifting from his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut, physical pain overwhelming him. In that second, he's certain that if she dies, so will he, this pain, it has to be dying…

"Emma, no, no, no, NO! EMMA!"" Mary Margaret's voice, panicked and hysterical, makes his eyes snap open, and when he looks down he sees Emma's eyes are closed. Mary Margaret's eyes find her husband's, her face contorted with terror. "_Do something_!"

His heart in his throat, David fumbles for a heartbeat with one hand, tapping his other gently across Emma's cheek, like it's as easy as waking her up. "Emma, stay with me, c'mon baby, open your eyes, _please_…." Something shatters inside him, and great, gulping sobs rip through him. "_PLEASE_."

There's a pulse, but barely. It's thready and slow. The sirens are close. Suddenly Mary Margaret grabs his arm, realizing, "David! The paramedics, they…they can't get down here!"

"_Fuck_…" He sucks in a choking breath, then swiftly lifts his daughter into his arms for the second time in her life.

Mary Margaret reaches over, trembling fingers finding Emma's pulse, like they needs to constant reassurance.

Then, before David can take a step, something barely visible, like glimmering air, rushes out of Emma.

And under her mother's touch, her heart stops beating.

~(OUAT)~

The heart can't leave the cemetery. Regina will have to come back later and take more intense security measures, but for now she looks around for a place to bury it.

She's still searching when she feels it.

Something rushes over her, and it's as though something physical empties from her. The surprise of it brings her to her knees, whole body going weak.

She looks up, and across the graveyard sees two paramedics, marching with the stretcher toward the mausoleum, freeze. Their eyes go wide, recognition dawning, and they stare at each other in shock.

"No…" Regina murmurs, disbelieving.

Then, behind her, she hears a cackle. "Yes! _Yes_." Whipping around, she sees Gold, his lip bleeding, jacket torn, but a wide grin splitting his face. "She did it."

"She didn't," Regina protests, denial descending. She brandishes the heart. "I saved the heart."

Gold smirks, then flicks his hand.

The heart flies from Regina's hand to the ground in front of Gold, and his eyes light up, delighted at the return of his magic. "This old thing?" He slams the edge of his cane into the heart, puncturing it, and Regina lets out a cry of protest. He lets the cane drop to the ground. "It's useless."

She stares at it, then lifts her head and screams at him, "_What_ did you _do_?"

"The girl's much more clever than you give her credit for," Gold says softly. "You wouldn't have been able to kill her if she didn't want it." Understanding and panic take over Regina's features, and she knows before Gold even says, "_She _was the curse. And you killed it." He smiles. "Congratulations."

Then he marches off, without the aid of his cane.

Regina watches him go, and then, startled, she notices another figure sprinting into the cemetery.

Henry.

The boy pulls up short when he sees the paramedics, his face going ashen, but before he can recover, Regina calls out, "Henry!"

She runs up beside him, and he takes a physical step back, staring at her, eyes welling with panic and accusations. "Where's Emma? What did you do?"

Regina watches the paramedics out of the corner of her eye, recovering and moving toward the mausoleum.

She has to run.

"C'mon," she commands, pivoting Henry and gripping his shoulder, leading him toward the car. "We're going."

"No!" He wrenches away. "I'm not going with you, I want to see Emma."

She catches the back of his shirt, pulling him back and grabbing his wrist.

She won't lose him, too.

"Henry. We have to go."

"I want to see EMMA!"

"You can't," Regina says, meeting his gaze. "She's dead."

Henry freezes, heat in his eyes. "You're _lying_."

"I'm not. She's dead, and we are _going_."

His face crumples, the tears coming fast, and then, though she hasn't picked him up in years, Regina lifts him, her arms viselike around her son, his arms pinned to his sides.

Henry starts to thrash, kicking and squirming, and when he starts screaming at her, he sounds much, much older than ten. "_YOU KILLED HER! Let me go, you killed her, I hate you, PUT ME DOWN."_

Regina presses her lips together and deposits Henry in the backseat of the car, clicking the child lock in place.

He starts to scramble toward the front seat, but by the time he gets there she's in the driver's side and driving away.

~(OUAT)~

He's moving through the woods, hunting, when it happens.

The pain brings him to his knees, a sharp, stabbing sensation in his chest, like his heart's being gutted and set on fire all at once.

He rolls on his back, clutching his chest. The beat feels steady, normal, but it can't be, not when he can feel his heart being cut open, flames licking his veins, the edges of his vision slipping from the intensity of the pain.

He grits his teeth, screams escaping as moans, and he squeezes his eyes shut, biting his tongue so hard he tastes blood, waiting for it to be over.

There's an extra pressure on him, moving, and he opens his eyes to see the cat, walking across his torso, yellow eyes almost concerned.

The animal stands there, watching, as they wait for the pain to pass.

~(OUAT)~

_**A/N:**_ _I don't want to say much here, for fear of giving anything away. Just note…this isn't the last chapter, so review. Let me know what you think of everything, and I'll update as soon as I can._


	19. The Worry List

_A/N: __ Sorry for the slight delay on this chapter! But it's a really long one, so hopefully it makes up for that. Song is "The Worry List" by Blue October…the lyrics quoted give me so many Charming feels. _

_Also, just a note: someone very reasonably asked why the narration keeps referring to 'David' and 'Mary Margaret' instead of 'Snow' and 'Charming'. It's a really good question, and one I thought about a lot. Ultimately, it was simply because I'd been referring to them that way from the beginning, and didn't see a compelling reason to switch, going by the 'we are both' theory, as well as the fact that even in canon people refer to them as both names (even Snow still uses 'David' half the time for her husband). So. Hope that's not confusing. _

Chapter Nineteen

_I'm tired and twisted, barely breathing, buried in the dark.__  
><em>_A could've been.__  
><em>_Don't be concerned, that's just the power of a breaking heart.__  
><em>_How good am I hiding it?__  
><em>_Look, I've got some bad intentions. Guilty as fcking charged.__  
><em>_Still standing stable, more than able, cause I know who you are.__  
><em>_I know the birthdays, anniversaries, all the first days I missed.__  
><em>_I regret them all, but__  
><em>_But now I know this;_

_I know that God exists. I held her in my arms.__  
><em>_I never knew I was able to ever feel this strong.__  
><em>_Take me off your worry list, it'll be better that way.__  
><em>_I'm really fine and Mar' there's nothing we haven't talked about.__  
><em>_So take me off your worry list, I said "Throw it away"_

_Yeah, this is what my life is about.__  
><em>_I might've been gone but I never walked out._

Mary Margaret feels the moment Emma's heart stops beating under the pads of her fingers. She emits a strangled cry, but she can't form the words to alert David to what's happened.

Emma's head drops against David's shoulder, and he moves at a furious pace up the stairs and out of mausoleum.

But as her hand falls away from Emma's wrist, Mary Margaret's knees lock into place. She stands frozen at the base of the stairs, watching her husband carry their daughter away from her yet again.

There's a scream rising from her chest, but it won't break free. Instead it stays there, ripping at her throat, threatening to tear her open.

The past few days are rushing back to her, everything after they left Gold's shop replayed with renewed clarity. How hard Emma had cried after sending Graham away. How she'd snuck to the mayor's to see Henry.

Yesterday…the long, perfect day they'd spent together as a family. Emma had spent all of it knowing she was going to die.

She's making gasping sounds, harsh and quivering, but it doesn't feel like any air is making it to her lungs.

"_SNOW_?!" David yells out from above her, the call echoing down the stairs, and there's a certain, chilling note of fear in his voice that hits her right in the chest.

Suddenly, Mary Margaret's legs remember how to move, and she runs up the stairs toward her baby girl.

~(OUAT)~

David bursts out of the mausoleum holding Emma, her body ragdoll limp, a dead weight in his arms.

He nearly collides with the two paramedics, carrying heavy bags over their shoulders and a stretcher between them.

The short, male paramedic stares up at David, eyes suddenly widening. "Your Highness?"

_Doc_. Terror knifes through David like an instinct; he remembers. Which means the curse is broken. Which means…

"My daughter," he clenches out. "Save her. Please."

He sees recognition on the dwarf's face; they'd all known Snow was pregnant, that her daughter was meant to be the savior. Doc exchanges a glance with his female partner and nods, slipping quickly into professional mode in spite of the fact that their lives had just been turned on end.

"You're gonna have to put her down…" They lower the stretcher onto the ground, and gently, as though he's handling something extremely fragile, David sets his daughter on top of it. The paramedics bend over her, and David drops onto his knees next to her head.

"There's no pulse…"

"She's tachycardic…"

A sob rips out of him, his view of Emma blurring behind a window of tears. David's hands are red and sticky with blood, but he can't stop himself from pressing his fingers against her forehead, as if his mere touch might protect his daughter.

They're pulling out a portable defibrillator. Rubbing the paddles together. He knows what those do, they shock the heart when it stops, _Emma's _heart.

His throat is tight, full of threatening sobs, but somehow, his wife's name slips out around them.

"_SNOW?!"_

~(OUAT)~

He presses the pad of his right thumb against his left wrist, feeling the deceptively slow, steady thump his pulse.

But in his chest there are explosions, demolitions, wars. Bursting outward from inside the walls of his heart, there is a new level of pain, previously undiscovered.

His eyes are full of white light, and burning with sweat. The cat gingerly rests a paw on his chin, and this is the only reassurance that he's still alive and conscious.

He rolls over suddenly, movements jerky, and the cat lets out a mew of protest of he leaps out of the way.

The ground muffles the moans spilling out of him, one after the other. He presses his chest against the damp grass and soil but the pressure doesn't lessen the agony.

~(OUAT)~

"Charge to 200."

There's a startled cry from behind David as Mary Margaret bursts outside just in time to see Doc press the paddles against Emma's chest.

"Clear!"

David's blinded by tears, but he can hear a quick high pitched whine, followed by the loud, bone rattling zap of electricity.

~(OUAT)~

He screams.

Lightning strikes the center of his heart, and somehow it is a worse pain than all the rest of it. His eyes are squeezed shut, his forehead pressed against dirt. He's sure this is it, this is the dying.

But then, for just a second, the pain fades. He has time to take a breath before it hits him again.

~(OUAT)~

"Still nothing…"

"_No_." She doesn't mean to speak out loud, the word turning into a low whimper stripped with anguish. Mary Margaret falls to the ground next to her husband.

His hand is on Emma's forehead. She puts her hand on top of his. She doesn't know which one of them is shaking.

Doc's gaze skims over to her, warm recognition clouded with tension as he says, "Charge to 300…"

David's eyes are closed, and he doubles over at the waist, his forehead resting on top of Mary Margaret's hand and he murmurs to his daughter, like a soft and desperate prayer, "C'mon, Emma, please, please, baby, c'mon, please wake up, please wake up for me…"

"Clear!"

~(OUAT)~

The lightning strikes again, and he gags, nauseous with pain.

"Stop…" His voice is raspy, childishly begging some unseen force to end this.

Again, the sharp stab of pain is immediately followed by a reprieve. He braces himself, waiting for it to hit again.

A few moments pass.

He slowly, tentatively opens his eyes.

~(OUAT)~

When he was a little kid, Henry got really, really good at pretending to disappear.

He would curl into himself, becoming as small as possible: knees drawn in, arms wrapped around them, shoulders curved inward, head down. He closed his eyes, no longer seeing anyone. It never felt like any of them saw him either way.

He did this mostly in school, at first: on the playground or during centers or in PE. He'd spent his whole life feeling several steps behind: he always started school years into classrooms with students who, somehow, already knew the teacher and the rules and, most importantly, each other. He always started on time, or so his mother told him, and he couldn't understand why he was the only stranger.

Then he started doing it at home, when his mother began ignoring his questions and insisting he was being ridiculous. When she started carting him off to therapy and asking him after every session if he understood that he was imagining things.

He would make himself disappear, and just for a little while, all the things that hurt and confuse him would disappear as well.

Now, he leans against the door of the car, his knees drawn up to his chin, his body as far away from Regina as he can get. He closes eyes and pretends not to exist. If he doesn't exist, he doesn't have to think that Emma is maybe dead.

The Evil Queen doesn't speak. Henry can feel how fast the car is going, how sudden each stop and how jerky each turn, but he isn't scared. He's too busy disappearing for that.

It hits him suddenly that they've been in the car longer than the distance between the cemetery and their house, and in spite of himself, Henry opens his eyes and peers out the window.

"Where are we going?" he demands immediately, the pitch of his voice climbing. There are woods on either side of the car; they're on the outskirts of Storybrooke.

"We're leaving," Regina answers shortly. Her knuckles are white on the wheel, her eyes slightly wild. "I'll sneak back later, get stuff from the house, but it's not safe now…"

Henry's stomach tightens and sits up straight in the seat, looking around wildly, like there's some secret way out of the speeding car. "It's not safe for _you_," Henry retorts angrily. "Because they know what you did to Emma-"

Regina grits her teeth and guns the car through a yellow light. "_Emma Swan _got exactly what she wanted. She broke the curse. She won. Are you _happy_?"

Hope lights in Henry's chest. "But…but you said she was…"

"She _is_ dead," Regina says bluntly. She grimaces, and her voice is self-flagellating as she continues, "Which is exactly what she wanted." She looks away from the road to look at him, her eyes angry and impatient. "That woman _lied_ to you, Henry. She knew she had to die to break the curse. She tricked me…"

He stares at her, not understanding, not believing. In the distance, he can see the town sign approaching.

He unclicks his seatbelt as gently as he can. Then, taking a deep breath, he opens the door-

"_Henry_!"

Regina seizes his shirt, jerking him back from the open door, and in seconds the brakes squeal as the car jolts to a stop. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

She still has a hold on his shirt, and Henry whips his head around to look at her. His face twists and tightens. "How'd she die?"

"Henry-"

"HOW DID YOU KILL HER?" He sounds so much older, so unlike a child.

Regina sighs and answers tightly, "I took her gun. Henry, she w_anted_ me to-"

"BUT YOU DIDN'T KNOW THAT." He's scaring himself. He's never been this angry before; he feels like he might explode, any second now, into nothing. "AND YOU STILL KILLED HER!" His voice shatters, and the tears start to fall, turning him into a little boy again. "I didn't think you really would…"

Regina slumps back in the driver's seat, her eyes fluttering closed. It is this, somehow, that threatens to break her for the first time. Because Henry has suspected for so long who she is. He has the book, he knows what she's done. Yet there was something in him that, when it came down to it, still saw her as his mother just enough that he couldn't genuinely believe she'd do something this horrendous.

In a flash, she thinks of her own mother. Standing over Daniel's body.

The car is stopped now, and Henry could run, but instead he's leaning over with his elbows propped on his knees, his face in his hands, crying softly and murmuring in a quiet, trembling voice, "I want my mom, I want my mom…"

Regina knows he doesn't mean her.

She reaches across him and closes the door, then puts the car into drive and makes a U turn in the street. Henry keeps his head down, and she drives back the way she came until she spots people in the distance. The car slows to a stop.

"Get out," she tells him softly, voice almost gentle.

Henry lifts his head, startled. They're at the edge of Main Street, close enough that he can see the sheriff's station, and the diner. He stares at Regina, wary, expecting a trick.

"Go ahead," she tells him again, more briskly. "I can't go any further than this but I…I won't make you come with me." She looks at her son's red, haunted eyes, and an apology forms but it sticks in her throat.

She can't bring herself to say it. Because in spite of everything, she can still hear Snow's devastated scream when Emma fell, and Regina thinks that maybe, at last, the girl has paid for what she's done.

The shock wears off and Henry scrambles out of the car in a hurry, worried she may change her mind, and he takes off running down the street.

Regina watches him for a long moment before turning the car around once again, heading out of Storybrooke.

~(OUAT)~

Her heart stops again in the ambulance.

They restart it faster this time, after the first shock, but Emma's parents know enough to know how bad this is.

They sit huddled in the ambulance, and Mary Margaret starts sobbing as soon as Emma's heart begins beating, immediate relief fighting a deeper terror. David can't stop staring at his hands, red and dry, his daughter's blood staining his skin as if it was his own.

When the ambulance arrives at the hospital, Mary Margaret and David keep pace alongside the stretcher, as Doc and his partner wheel Emma inside the ER.

There's a general sense of confusion inside, clusters of doctors and nurses standing around and speaking in loud, overlapping voices, no doubt reconciling their newly discovered memories with the varying degrees of knowledge they had about the curse before it was cast.

"We need some help over here!"

With an impatient sigh that makes David want to punch him, Dr. Whale extracts himself from a group, along with several nurses and interns, hurrying over to the stretcher. "What do we got?"

"Twenty-eight year old female, GSW to the chest."

Whale looks down at Emma's face. "What, again?"

This provokes a low, frightening growl from David, and Whale glances at him before ordering one of the nurses, "Get her to Bay 2 and get some blood in her…" He holds out a hand then, stopping David and Mary Margaret, both of whom had taken an instinctual step to follow. "You two wait out here."

"Like hell we will," David snarls.

"She's our daughter," Mary Margaret explains, distressed, and Whale does a slight double take, looking skeptical.

A young intern sticks her head out of the bay where they took Emma. "Code Blue!"

Whale pushes past David and Mary Margaret. "Get the crash cart!"

Horrorstruck, David moves robotically after him, Mary Margaret on his heels, but as Whale pushes through the room, he barks at a nurse, "Get them out of here."

The nurse, a slightly older woman, touches Mary Margaret's arm gingerly, looking intimidated as she glances between them. "I'm s-sorry, Your Highness…you'll, um, have to wait outside."

"Charge the 200…"

They don't move.

"Clear!"

"Charge again!"

"Emma!" Her daughter's name is strangled in her throat. The heat monitor is a single high, terrifying note.

"GET THEM OUT OF HERE."

Two large, male orderlies come up behind them and guide Mary Margaret and David away just as the heart monitor next to Emma begins to beep steadily again.

"Sorry, Your Highnesses," one of the men says nervously.

~(OUAT)~

Henry runs without looking back until he gets to the diner. Then, he glances over his shoulder and confirms that Regina's car is gone.

Finally he stops, wiping his sleeves across his face, sniffling. He glances around, turning in slow, desperate circles.

He needs to find his grandparents. Have they already gone back to his house, looking for him? Are they still at the cemetery, too upset to do anything?

_Or_, some tiny voice in his head adds, _Are they somewhere with Mom?_

There is a part of him that still thinks it can't possibly be true.

"Henry!"

He turns, tensing, but it's only Ruby, hurrying out of the diner, her eyes sparkling, a wide smile on her face. "Have you seen Sn- um, Mary Margaret?"

"I know who she is," Henry says. "She's my grandmother, she remembered who she is already." At the word g_randmother_, Ruby's eyebrows shoot up, but Henry continues, his words spilling out faster and faster. "I don't know where she is. She and Grandpa were at the cemetery with Emma when she broke the curse but the Queen took me away before I could see them and I don't know what happened and now Emma's maybe dead."

"Emma…oh God, _Emma_." Ruby's eye widen in realization, one memory in particularly edging out all the others she'd just gotten back.

_Her visits to the castle have changed in the last few months, horseback rides and archery put on hold as Snow's pregnancy progresses, and most days they just talk. _

_They're sitting in the half completed nursery now, each in rocking chairs. Snow is sewing, a recently acquired skill, her fingers slow and meticulous as they complete a seam on a stuffed animal. Red hadn't picked the skill up so easily, so she just rocks absently and watches her best friend work, the two of them having yet another endless conversation about the curse Regina threatened at the wedding._

"_James doesn't seem worried," Red observes, eliciting an eyeroll from Snow._

"_Sure, but you know Charming. He's probably just terrified a stressful environment will 'hurt the baby'. Regina's army could be beating down the gates, and he'd still be insisting there was nothing to worry about as long as this one's still inside." She rests a hand on her swelling stomach, and suddenly gives a cry of surprise. _

_Red sits forward slightly, alarmed. "What's wrong?"_

_Suddenly, a smile blooms on Snow's face. "She's kicking! Come feel." _

_Eagerly, Red hurries out of her chair and bends down in front of her friend, resting a hand besides Snow's and feeling the solid thump against her palm._

_They sit in silence for a moment, smiling and reveling in this proof, and then Red arches an eyebrow. "She?"_

_Snow smirks; for months, she's been insisting she doesn't know the baby's gender. Now, she says in an exaggerated whisper. "Charming still thinks it's a boy."_

"_But you DO know for sure."_

_Snow beams, eyes dropping to her stomach. "Yes. We're having a girl." She hesitates, then whispers to her best friend, "Emma."_

Ruby shakes her head, astonished. The sheriff is her best friend's daughter.

She'd known the plan was to send Snow through the enchanted tree before she had the baby. The night the curse was cast, the last Ruby had heard was that Snow had gone into labor, but Granny hadn't been sure if the tree was ready, if she'd make it in time. Ruby had been on her way to the castle when the curse struck, and that was the last thing she remembered.

Her heart clenches as she understands what must have happened. They'd had to send the baby through, alone.

Suddenly, her eyes snap back to Henry, another part of his quickly delivered words just now sinking in. "Wait…what do you mean Emma's _maybe dead_?"

A fresh wave of tears rush to the boy's eyes, and his chin trembles as he answers, "I…I don't know. I went to the cemetery, that's where they had to break it and…there was an ambulance, and paramedics, and I couldn't see anybody before the Queen grabbed me but then she let me come back and she said she killed Emma…she said Emma had meant for her to, because that's how the curse broke…"

Ruby's face is pale, but she makes her voice reassuring, "Okay. So there was an ambulance there….we don't know that Emma's dead." She offers Henry her hand. "I bet you anything your, uh, grandparents are at the hospital with Emma. They probably rode in the ambulance. I'll take you to find out, okay?"

Henry hesitates, then nods, slipping his hand into hers, grateful to let someone else be in charge.

~(OUAT)~

They've been relegated to a hallway outside the ER. There's a waiting room down the hall, but they won't go any further than they have to.

For a long time, they're just quiet, locked so intensely in their own grief and terror that they can't even reach out for each other.

David slumps against the wall, his blood stained hands splayed in front of him. Mary Margaret paces.

After a long, drawn out silence, David mutters in a low, hollow voice, "We should've known."

Mary Margaret's eyes close. "Don't."

"Gold didn't want to tell her in front of us. He even _said_ that, and we didn't ask why."

"Please stop-"

"And she wanted to make sure we'd look after Henry, she knew, all yesterday-"

"S_top it!_" Her eyes fly open, and Mary Margaret abruptly stops her pacing and whirls on her husband. "It doesn't matter now! We _didn't_ think to ask, and we _didn't_ realize. And _I _am the one who went down there, I am the one who watched her get shot without saving her-"

For the firs time since the cemetery, David touches her, his fingers grazing her wrist. "Snow-"

She ignores him, continuing in a fierce, trembling voice, "But she _isn't_ going to die. This…it happened before, she was shot before and they thought…they told Graham and me she wasn't going to wake up, and she _did_. So she _isn't_ going to die."

David's face collapses in on itself, and he rubs a hand over his eyes as his shoulders start to shake with sobs, because he doesn't believe it. He wants to, and he's trying, but he just can't, and it's breaking him.

Mary Margaret sees it, sees him not believing, and she turns her back on her husband and resumes her pacing.

She remembers the visceral moment of relief from before, when Graham finally called her from Emma's hospital room and said she was awake, even though they'd been told that was impossible. She remembers the shape and sound of a miracle, and now she clings to that memory.

Seconds crawl by, time slowing. It feels like forever before the door to the ER opens and Dr. Whale steps out. David lifts his head and Mary Margaret goes still, both of them staring at him expectantly.

"She needs surgery," he says bluntly. "We need to get the bullet out, do some damage control."

"Then do surgery," Mary Margaret retorts tersely, narrowing her eyes at him.

In a calm, measured voice, Whale replies, "She's coding every few minutes. I'm not convinced she's strong enough for surgery right now."

"So what do you do?"

"We need to get her stabilized."

"Then _do it_." Mary Margaret sets her jaw, pushing away the fear rising in her throat.

Whale's eyes flick to David momentarily, then return to Mary Margaret. "Except…the longer we wait on the surgery, the more internal damage. The higher the risk of infection. The _less_ stable she becomes."

"So you're saying…" The words are hoarse and trembling, David's voice barely recognizable. "She can't have surgery until she's stable…but she won't get stable without the surgery?"

"Unfortunately, yes." He takes a weighty, practiced pause. "I'm saying there might be nothing we can do."

David makes an odd gasping sound, like a scream with no voice behind it. Mary Margaret just shakes her head, refusing to accept it. Whale said that before, and he was _wrong_ before. "Well, you better figure something out."

For a long moment, she stares Whale down. David's leaning against the wall, his head in his hands. Finally, Whale nods once. "She's still losing blood, but we've got it going in, too. We had to put her on a ventilator, she was having trouble breathing on her own. We'll do everything we can, and once she stays stable for around half an hour without coding…we'll take her into surgery." He starts back to the ER, then pauses, looking back. "But you should maybe…prepare yourselves."

The door closes behind him, and David's back arches, away from the wall. His wife is staring at him, eyes wide and horrified.

"I can't do this," he whispers. "She's gonna…damn it, I can't…" His voice cracks. "I can't lose her, _we_ can't…"

"_Charming_." The fierce conviction is gone from her voice, and there's a desperate, pleading note trembling when she says his name. She reaches for his hand, but he pulls away, staring down at the crimson tinge in renewed horror.

"I gotta…I should wash it off…" Without further explanation, he walks past her, disappearing down the hall and turning a corner.

Mary Margaret stares after him, fear choking her. Her husband has more faith than anyone she knows, but even his faith has crumbled under this weight.

And it is this realization that makes her own faith snap in two.

She falls against the wall, in the same spot where David was leaning, as sobs begin to wrack her body and she sinks slowly to the floor.

~(OUAT)~

He gets sick in the last stall of the men's room, emptying the contents of his stomach.

A few minutes later, David stands over the sink, meaning to wash his hands, but he is paralyzed, staring yet again at his palms.

He thinks of the last time Emma was shot, before he knew she was his daughter, before he even knew her as a friend. How at the hospital, he'd felt disconnected, uncomfortable. He hadn't belonged, and the terror that had gnawed at him from the second he saw Graham carry her out of the house had felt strange and unearned.

Well, he's sure as hell earned his grief now. He feels beaten to a pulp with it, battered and weakened as if he's the one dying.

Without meaning to, David catches a glimpse of his reflection. His eyes aren't the same color as Emma's, not right now; the red surrounding the iris makes them seem darker, duller.

_I should've known_, he thinks suddenly, his sorrow condensing into something like fury, and he remembers telling Graham that he would make sure Emma was okay. He'd promised, with a father's conviction, that he would die for his daughter; it had never once occurred to him that Emma would make sure he didn't have the chance.

He slams his right hand against the mirror, flattened when it hits the glass. A crack appears, and his other hand comes up as well. He beats it, never making a fist, just slamming over and over until the last of the pieces fall away.

His palms are cut to ribbons, thin rivulets of blood streaking across his skin. He presses them against his jeans, smearing it, so when he looks again, he can't tell the difference between his blood and his daughter's.

~(OUAT)~

Ruby leads Henry through the halls of the hospital. Half the desks and nurse's station are empty, as though the employees fled as soon as they remembered they weren't _really_ medical professionals.

They turn a corner and freeze.

"_Snow_…"

Her best friend is a huddled figure on the floor, her cries the only sound in the vacant hallway, and without thinking, Ruby drops the boy's hand and runs forward, kneeling next to Mary Margaret.

The hug of their reunion, that should have been joyous and full of smiles and laughing, is instead a tight, one sided hug of comforting, as Ruby wraps her arms around Mary Margaret. "Oh, Snow…."

Mary Margaret's forehead is against Ruby's shoulder, and she's taking gulping, gasping breaths as she chokes out, "My baby is….Red, it's Emma, she's…"

"I know…" Ruby feels her eyes well with tears, and she strokes her friend's hair soothingly.

Henry stands apart from them, paralyzed. He feels dizzy, but his brain is racing wildly, trying to explain this away. His grandpa isn't there, if Emma was dead surely he'd be there…

It takes awhile for him to get the words in the right order, and even longer before he makes himself say them out loud. "Is Mom dead?"

Mary Margaret lifts her face from Ruby's shoulder, noticing him for the first time. "Henry…." A sob rounds around his name, but she pulls herself to her feet and goes over to him, pulling him into a hug. "No, honey," she whispers, her fingers stroking his hair in a way that reminds him of Emma, last night. "No, she's not dead." She pushes back so she can look down at him. "But she's pretty badly hurt."

Questions pile up in his throat; he wants to know if it's true that Emma meant to die, how the curse is broken if she didn't. But he can't get them out around the full, all consuming force of his relief.

Suddenly, David reappears, looked like he's aged a decade in the last hour. His hands look somehow worse than before.

He pulls up short when he sees his grandson. "Henry…" Henry's eyes are on David's hands, his face tightening as he takes in the seemingly fresh blood. David's eyes move to Ruby. "Hi, Red."

She gives a small, sad smile, sympathy threaded through her voice, "Hey, James."

Finally, he meets his wife's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

She goes to him, snaking her arms around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder for a long moment.

"Hey…." Henry's voice holds a note of realization, and Mary Margaret pulls away from David as they both turn to look at him. "We need to get Graham."

"Henry, we can't leave Emma-"

"No, we _have _to bring him back here," he insists. "Last time we were in the hospital, when she was hurt before…they said she wasn't going to wake up. But Graham kissed her, and she did."

David and Mary Margaret exchange surprised glances; this is new information for them. "But…what happened to her wasn't magic…"

"That's what he thought," Henry tells them. "But he tried it anyway, and it worked, so we gotta bring him back."

Henry's eyes are shining with renewed hope and a child's certainty; David meets his wife's eyes over the top of Henry's head, seeing his own doubts and questions mirrored on her face.

_Will it work now, with the curse broken?_

_After Emma willingly sacrificed herself? _

_If her heart keeps failing, will it make any difference?_

_And what if Graham doesn't remember her?_

Henry looks between them, their expressions unreadable. "What's wrong? Why won't it work?"

"It might, kid," David murmurs. He can feel the beginning flickering of restrained hope.

"We need to ask Gold," Mary Margaret says suddenly, and immediately David's face hardens.

"_No_," he replies instantly. "No, _Gold_ let this happen. He's the one who told Emma she had to die for the curse to break."

"Yes," Mary Margaret replies patiently, looking him in the eye. "He told her, and she agreed." She catches her trembling lower lip between her teeth. "Gold may not give a damn about Emma's life, but Regina's the one who shot her. The curse is broken. Gold got what he wanted. And we may need him."

Ruby, who's been leaning silently against the wall, apart from the family, for most of the conversation, offers, "I can track him down."

Mary Margaret nods at her gratefully. "Please. And hurry." David's mouth flies open in protest, and she lays a calming hand on his chest. "For Emma," she says in a low voice. "Charming, he may know how to save her."

He sighs, not pleased with the idea, but eventually nods, and Ruby hurries away.

For a moment, the three of them stand in silence. Then, tentatively, Henry asks, "Grandma?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Where…where is my mom? I mean, are we not allowed to see her?"

Mary Margaret doesn't miss the fact that Henry's transitioned to using _Mom_ full time, and her chest tightens painfully. She glances at David, a question in her eyes.

"We can see if they'll let us sit with her," he says finally. "Come on."

~(OUAT)~

The tiny trauma room in the ER is a far cry from Emma's post-op hospital room.

There's a tube in her throat, connected to a ventilator that's breathing for Emma, and there are tubes replenishing the blood into her body.

Henry sits on the edge of the bed, holding Emma's right hand. Mary Margaret's on the other side, holding her left hand. And David sits across from his wife, his hand on Emma's shoulder. He can't stop staring at the heart monitor.

They've been there almost fifteen minutes without incident when Henry asks hesitantly, "So it's…it's true? That Emma…wanted to die?"

Mary Margaret winces at the choice of words, and she looks away from Emma for the first time since entering the room to meet Henry's eyes. "She didn't wa_nt_ to die, honey. Gold told her that it was the only way to break the curse. And she didn't tell any of us, because she knew we would've stopped her, but Emma just…she wanted to save everyone. She wanted…" Her voice breaks.

But Henry quietly finishes the sentence, replaying Emma's words from the night before. "She wanted to show that good can win." David and Mary Margaret seem to shrink into themselves, and after a moment Henry asks, "But…the curse is broken. Ruby and everyone, they remember. Even though she's still alive."

David clears his throat. "Her heart stopped, Henry, for a few seconds. The paramedics got it started again, but while it was stopped…"

"The curse broke," he finishes, nodding. He looks down at his mother, shivering suddenly.

In books, most heroes are willing to die to save others.

But in books, they usually don't have to.

In a tight voice, Henry asks, "So now she'll be okay, right?"

Before his grandparents can answer, the beeping on the heart monitor speeds up drastically, the high pitched sound of panic.

David jolts to his feet as if electrocuted. "Somebody help!"

A team is already on their way, pushing a crash cart into the room, edging past David to get close to the bed. Henry scrambles down, terrified. "Mom? What's happening to her? _Mom_?!"

For a second, David and Mary Margaret are frozen, the site of their daughter's heart failing not getting any less horrifying with repetition. Then, at the same time, they remember Henry.

David scoops his grandson up easily, turning him so he can't see, and they hurry out of the room just as Dr. Whale once again shocks Emma's heart. "Wait, stop it!"

They're back in the hallway, and Henry's writhing in David's hold, his tone desperate, "Wait, what happened, is she okay, what were they doing?"

David deposits the boy onto the ground, but keeps his hands firmly on his shoulders as he kneels to look him in the eye. "Emma's heart's had a lot of strain on it. The doctors have had to get it restarted a few times, but they always-"

Mary Margaret appears behind them, her face drawn and ashen, but she assures them quickly, "She's stable."

Henry looks immediately relieved, but David stands up, a muscle jumping in his jaw, and mutters in an undertone to Mary Margaret, "How much more of this can she take?"

"Whale's coming to talk to us in a minute," she replies quietly.

David nods, his stomach rolling nauseously. Mary Margaret's legs feel boneless beneath her, and she quickly moves against the wall and sits down out of necessity, forcing a smile at Henry. "Let's sit and wait for the doctor, okay?"

Henry nods and obeys, sitting down beside her and leaning his head on her shoulder. David starts to join them, but a movement out of the corner of his eye stops him, and he turns to see August walking hesitantly down the hall toward them.

August's pace slows even more when he realizes David's seen him. He glances around, looking like he'd give anything for someone to call his name and give him an excuse to run. But nothing happens, so he shuffles the remaining steps to David and clears his throat awkwardly. "Hi, um. How's Emma?"

"Alive," David says tersely.

August had run into Ruby on his way to the hospital, so he knows this, though it surprised him, considering what she'd said last night, and the fact that the curse is very clearly broken. "And is she, uh. Is she gonna be okay?"

His face tightens and David gives August a cold look, resenting his presence solely because it forces him to admit, "Don't know that yet."

August's eyes move from David to Mary Margaret and Henry, staring up at him from the floor. Finally, he reaches into his pocket and awkwardly pulls out the stack of envelopes. "These are for you guys. From Emma."

David's insides knot up instantly as he watches August hand a letter to Henry, then to Mary Margaret, before holding one out for him.

There's another letter in August's hand, and he seems to hesitate, but then they're all ripping open the envelopes, and August takes a step back, trying not to watch their faces as they read.

David tears open the envelope as though it might hold the secret to saving his daughter.

_Dear Dad,_

Just these two words pull him up short. He'd known what this letter was, instinctively; they all had. But he'd grabbed for it without thinking, just hungry from any answers from Emma, but now his breath catches in his throat, and he traces his finger unconsciously over the word _Dad_, scrawled dark and deliberate in his daughter's handwriting.

He's only gotten to hear her call him that out loud once; he c_an't _let her dying words be the only time he does.

He can hear Mary Margaret's short, hitching breaths, and the slight fluttering of paper that means someone's hand is shaking.

Forcing his lungs to work again, David reads on.

_Dear Dad, _

_I'm sorry._

_All these letters are starting the same, because I don't know how to apologize enough. I hate lying to you, all of you. But I hope you understand why I did it. I know you would have stopped me, and I sort of love knowing that. I know you would put my life above the curse, above everyone else in Storybrooke. That feeling, someone caring that much about me, is entirely new, so thank you. _

_But the thing is…_I _can't put myself above everyone else. If I'm the only one who can free them, I have to do it. I'm not used to needing anyone, and I'm not used to be needed. But then Henry showed up and brought me here, and both of those things changed. It just turns out more people need me than I originally thought. And besides, as long as the curse is around, Regina has power…and, eventually, Graham and Mary Margaret and you and maybe even Henry won't be safe from her. So this is something I have to do. And I hope you can understand. And maybe, someday, you can even be a little proud of me. _

_I don't want to be angry about this, about how little time we got, but really, how can I not be? But in truth, that's part of why I have to do this. I can't let Regina win. Not after what she did to our family. Because…even if I lived another fifty years, I still won't be the daughter, the KID, you guys were waiting for. And that's not fair to you. And I can't get back all the time I should have had you but didn't. And Regina shouldn't get to get away with that._

_You would have been a really good dad. _

_When I was really young, I used to make up stories about my parents. Wild, impossible stories that only a little kid could imagine (ironically, those were actually the closest to the truth as I ever got). But when I got a little older, in elementary school, I started noticing things. Like, there were kids in the system who weren't orphans, who were just in and out of foster homes while their custodial parent was in jail or rehab or whatever. They were different from me, because they had a 'real' home, and a 'real' family, no matter how screwed up. And I realized…almost all of them had moms. But a lot of them, maybe even most of them, didn't have a dad. Some didn't even know who their dad was. It was a pattern I started noticing; most kids got at least one parent. But it wasn't THAT unusual to be missing a dad. Even some of the regular kids at school didn't have dads who lived with them._

_So I started to compromise, like I didn't want to wish for too much, you know? I'd settle for just a mom, like everyone else had. I wasn't going to be greedy about it. So I stopped making up stories about finding my father. I convinced myself I didn't even want to. When I got older, old enough to start to understand the likely scenarios about parents who'd dump a newborn on a highway (needless to say, the real story didn't occur to me), I realized there was practicality to my strategy: it would be much harder to track down the birth father. My mother may not have known who he was; he might not have known she was pregnant, etc. You can probably figure out that line of thinking. Basically, I figured that me-as-a-kid had been pretty astute. Any parent was unlikely; but I told myself I would have been satisfied with just finding some nugget of information on my mom, which was slightly less impossible. I gave up on a dad entirely. _

_I'm telling you this because I want you know…finding you was maybe the biggest miracle of all this. That still seems the most like magic to me._

_I'm not so good at the sentimental stuff, but in the circumstances, I guess I can least make an attempt. So I'll just say this: the morning Graham disappeared, when I thought he was dead, you were there. We didn't know each other too well, then, but it didn't matter. Graham had said, the night before, that the curse was real and you guys were my parents, and you know I didn't believe him. But in that moment, you hugging me in the floor of the station, that was the first time I maybe felt it. Because in that moment when everything in me was falling apart, you held me together. It was the first time in my life when something bad happened and I didn't feel alone in it. So even though I'm mad as hell that we lost so much time, I'm also really, really grateful for what we got, because it was so much more than I'd expected._

_So all I can say now is thank you, and I love you. Please, please be okay. Stay mad at me if it helps, but be okay. I know you'll take care of Henry, and of Mom, and that you guys will be family. Please be happy._

_I love you,_

_Emma_

~(OUAT)~

He's crying, the tears coming so fast and heavy it's a wonder he can see the words on the page.

He can hear his wife crying behind him, but he doesn't look back at her or Henry. Instead he carefully, meticulously folds the letter and places it carefully in the pocket of his coat. Then, he lifts his eyes to August and asks in a quiet, dangerous voice, "How did you get this?"

August almost takes a step back, uncomfortable with David's intensity. He's transfixed by the look on the other man's face, soaked with tears and twisted with a grief. But there's a rage leeching into his eyes.

He remembers David, or rather Prince James, from his childhood. He remembers when he first met him, shy and awed by the presence of a prince, especially one who, as everyone knew, had slain a dragon. But James had been easy going and playful when August and his father went over the castle, always taking a moment before official business to pantomime sword fights with him, or ask about his lessons or, once, even taking him out to the stables and letting him name one of the new horses. He remembers sitting on the floor, next to his father, by the roundtable while everyone worried and planned for the curse. For the longest time, though, he hadn't been worried; his father said Prince James would come up with a plan.

Now, the prince, technically younger than August though he doesn't look it today, is coming unraveled. "_HOW_?" he demands again, eyes wild.

"Emma gave them to me," August admits softly. "Yesterday afternoon, I promised to give them to you guys, um, after-"

"So you knew?" David spits the words out, physically advancing on August. "You knew she was going to try to get killed?"

"I, I, yes, I knew," August stammers, his eyes darting wildly. "I tried to talk her-"

His reply is cut off as David lunges at him, tackling him to the floor.

David's fists are flailing, too wild to do immediate damage, but after a few seconds they find flesh and connect.

"Charming!"

"Grandpa!"

August lifts his forearms, trying to protect his face, but David doesn't let up, all the anger he's feeling coalescing now the he has a halfway viable target. There's a roaring in his ears that drowns out the yells of his wife and grandson.

Finally, August recovers from the shock enough to defend himself. He rolls away, trying to stand up, but David's merciless, knocking him down again before he's even halfway up. Finally, August hurls him off him with a powerful shove, and he's able to get to his feet.

David scrambles to stand immediately, running back at August, but this time he's ready for it, and for a moment they struggle against each other, David throwing punches while August tries to defend himself without striking. Eventually, though, David make an attempt to tackle August to the ground, and August manages to grab a hold of his arms and shove the other man against the wall.

In the heat of the fight, August lifts a fist, but it drops instantly when he sees David's still crying, his face crumpled and wet, etched with grief.

August releases him and steps back; his lip is bleeding, his eye already swelling into a shiner, but it's David who, though unscathed, looks worse off.

Suddenly Mary Margaret's there, stepping between them, one hand on her husband's chest, the other still clutching her own letter. "It's okay, you can stop this…it's alright…"

David's eyes land on Henry, staring wide eyed and silent, and his murmured, "Sorry" is directed as much at the boy as the man in front of him bleeding.

"Um, sorry to interrupt." They turn as a unit; Dr. Whale is standing there, eyeing them all with bemusement.

"What's happening?" Mary Margaret demands instantly. Henry's face tightens, and he drifts over between his grandparents, heart hammering in his chest.

"We can't wait anymore," Whale tells them brusquely. "Every time we revive her, it's harder on her body. I want to take her into surgery, see if we can get in there and do some damage control, see if that stops her heart from failing."

"But you, um. You said she wasn't strong enough for surgery," Mary Margaret says, her voice snagging on a note of pure fear.

Whale shakes his head. "She might not be." Hearing Henry taking sharp, shallow breaths, David wraps an arm around his shoulder, and the boy shrinks against his side as Whale continues, "But we don't have any other options. I can't even say what's causing this to happen, to be honest. I need to get in there and see what I'm dealing with, if you want her to even have a chance at living."

"So it's true?"

Everyone glances to the side, startled by the new voice. Gold is leaning against the door to the ER, his eyes shining with fascination. Silently, Ruby comes up behind him, glancing curiously at August. Gold continues, "Miss Swan is still alive?"

David's eyes flash with anger again but he's mindful of Henry's presence beside him now, and it's enough to make him swallow the growl in his throat. "_Yes_, she is. No thanks to _you_."

Gold looks unbothered by this final comment; he shakes his head in wonder. "How strange…"

"Why?" Henry can't help but ask in a small voice.

Gold looks down at him, speaking directly to the boy. "You know how the curse broke, yes?" Henry nods once in assent. "The curse couldn't survive without Miss Swan…that's why her death was the only way to break it. But the principle goes both ways. She shouldn't be able to survive without the curse." He waves a hand. "And the curse is broken."

"Wait a second…" Whale steps forward, eyebrows knit. "The first time she coded…_that's w_hat broke the curse?" He frowns. "So if we save her does that mean it…goes back?"

This time David's growl escapes, but it's Mary Margaret who sweeps forward, grabbing Whale by his collar and shoving him against the wall, a fire igniting in her eyes. "If you let my daughter die-"

His eyes narrow. "She's not my princess. And neither are you."

Before she can continue with threats, Gold makes a scoffing sound. "Fortunately, the matter is Irrelevant. She's alive right now, yes?" He arches his eyebrows at Whale, who reluctantly nods. "And the curse is still broken. It will remain broken. But that's what's so odd."

"Maybe it's like with Graham," Henry says hesitantly. Everyone looks down at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Like with Graham's heart. He doesn't have his old one anymore, but he's still okay."

"That's different," Gold says dismissively. "Having your heart magically removed, it doesn't kill you as long as it's intact-"

"But his isn't," Henry insists. "The Queen crushed it right after Emma made him remember. It doesn't exist anymore, but he's still alive."

Everyone but Gold looks confused by this pronouncement, but Gold keeps his eyes on Henry. "Really?"

Henry nods, his voice gaining strength, "Yeah, he has a heartbeat and everything."

"So that explains it…" Gold says, almost to himself.

David makes an impatient sound. "Look, I don't _care_ how she's alive now, all I care about is keeping her that way."

Gold looks up at him, saying sharply, "Then you should be interested in this. It involves a very rare kind of magic…that your daughter apparently possesses."

"But will it _save her_?" Mary Margaret demands, her voice catching.

"It's saving her now," Gold states. His eyes slowly rove over David, Mary Margaret and Henry, skim Dr. Whale and then August and Ruby, seeming to revel in his audience. "Magically removing a heart has two purposes: it lets a person control their victim, and it robs the victim of their ability to feel. Yet somehow, our dear sheriff began feeling anyway…feeling something for Miss Swan." His eyes go back to Mary Margaret and David. "The sheriff should have died when Regina crushed his heart, yet he didn't. Whatever heart he has now…it's not the one he started with. And it's directly connected to your daughter's."

There's a long silence as they absorb this. Finally, Henry says, "So…she's still alive, because Graham is?"

"Something like that."

"So what do we do?" David demands impatiently.

"I'd start by getting him here," Gold says calmly. "He's alive, which is helping but…he's in a completely different world. It's not enough."

Mary Margaret asks, "So will she…she'll stay alive? As long as he is?"

"That I can't say," Gold replies casually. "It's the reason she can live without the curse, but there's no way to tell how far the power will stretch." He eyes Whale. "You need to keep doing your job, for instance."

Henry tugs on David's sleeve. "_Now _can we go get Graham?"

David meets his wife's eyes, and they hold each other's gaze for a long time, processing this. Finally, he nods. "Yeah. Yeah, we can get Graham."

"Where _is_ Graham?" Ruby speaks up suddenly, confused.

"Regina _was_ holding him hostage, we couldn't get him out so Emma…she sent him back, to the Enchanted Forest…" David's voice quickens, "We need to get Jefferson's hat, it's the only way back-"

Ruby interrupts, "Actually, it might not be. There's a rumor going around, about the cemetery…I don't know if it's true-"

"It is," Gold puts in. "Regina's little vault has opened up to the Enchanted Forest."

"It's a direct portal?" Whale's eyes widen. "We can get back?" He looks ready to bolt now, and David seizes his sleeve, narrowing his eyes at the doctor.

"You're not going anywhere," David orders, his tone inviting no argument. "If she needs surgery, you do the surgery."

Whale looks like he might protest, and Mary Margaret steps forward, snapping, "Our _daughter _is the only reason you have your memories back. She's the only reason you even have a _chance_ to go home." She draws a breath, some of the venom draining from her tone. "Save her life. Then do whatever you want."

"Fine," Whale clenches out. "But keep in mind there's only so much I can do. Now, I need to get her prepped for surgery."

"We'll need to see her before you take her to the OR," David calls after him as Whale walks back into the ER.

The door closes behind him, and Gold bares his teeth, "Well, I'll leave you all to your…family business."

"_Hey_." David grabs the older man's arm as he walks off. "You better pray to God she's alright, or I _will_ make you pay for telling her to do this."

Gold winks, but his eyes harden imperceptibly. "Good luck with that. Your Highness." He walks swiftly away.

For a moment, the remaining five stand in silence. David loops the arm not around Henry over Mary Margaret's shoulders, and she moves gratefully against him.

Ruby steps forward, "I'll go back." They look over at her. "I'll go back, I'll find Graham. You should all stay with Emma."

Eager to help, August steps up. "I'll go with her."

Mary Margaret glances at David, ready to agree, but he shakes his head. "No. Thanks, but…I need to do this."

Giving him a questioning look, Mary Margaret says, "But Emma's surgery-"

"I know." He grimaces, expression pained. "But Graham may not even remember who she is, getting him to come here might not be so simple, and I can't take any chances."

"Why wouldn't Graham remember Emma?" Henry asks incredulously.

"We aren't sure what the effect sending him back before the curse was broken had on his Storybrooke memories," Mary Margaret explains gently.

Henry looks stricken. "But if he doesn't remember her…will it still work?"

"It will," David says firmly. "It has to." He squares his shoulders, visibly pulling himself together. "I'll see Emma before she goes into surgery and…" His voice falters, and he sets his jaw. "By the time she's out of surgery, I'll be back with Graham and…she'll wake up, and she'll be fine."

"Can I go with you?" Henry asks suddenly. David looks down at him, surprised. "Please? I want to help."

David gives Mary Margaret a questioning look; she shrugs, and says in an undertone, "It may be better for him than just sitting here, worrying."

Nodding, David tells Henry, "Yeah, you can come." He meets Ruby's eyes. "You'll stay with Snow?"

Ruby nods. "Of course."

David looks down at his wife, and promises in a quiet voice, "I'll be back as fast as I can."

She touches his face. "Be careful. And listen…there's a whistle, in our old bedroom. It's in the back of the top drawer in my wardrobe…get it, and take it to the woods. You sound that whistle, it'll help you find him."

"Alright." He pulls her to him, hugging her tightly. They hold on tightly, and finally David murmurs, "If anything happens, will you call me?"

Mary Margaret pushes back from him, smiling thinly. "I don't remember there being great cell service there."

"Oh, right." He tries to smile, but it wilts immediately as the door to the ER opens and Whale steps out.

"If you want to see her, you have to do it now."

David inhales slowly, stepping back and putting one arm around his wife, one hand on Henry's shoulder. "Alright."

"I'll wait here," Ruby says quietly, meeting Mary Margaret's eyes reassuringly.

The family starts toward the ER when August steps forward. "Um…David?"

David turns, then nods at his wife and grandson to go on before him. They disappear through the ER doors, and he looks at August, waiting.

He extends the final envelope. "Emma said to give you this one, too. It's Graham's." After a beat, David nods and takes it. "She said to only give it to him if he remembers her."

"Alright," David says dully. He tucks the envelope into his jacket pocket and his fingers land on his own letter. He grabs hold of the piece of paper, thinking of what his daughter wrote to him.

"And I'm sorry," August adds in a pained voice. "I really am."

"I know."

"I tried to talk her out of it-"

"She's stubborn." He almost smiles, his chest tightening. "Like her mom."

August hesitantly offers his hand, and the slices on David's palm sting as he shakes.

"Good luck, sir."

"Thanks." August starts off, and David spontaneously adds, "Pinocchio?"

August freezes, stiffening with the shock of being called by his real name for the first time in nearly three decades. He turns.

"Go find your dad." The last word sticks in David's throat. "Okay?"

August smiles and nods, then goes the rest of the way down the hall.

David steps into the ER. He can see Mary Margaret and Henry, silhouetted behind the curtain that surrounds Emma's trauma bay.

His feet suddenly stop working, and David fumbles around his pocket and pulls out the letter again. He traces his finger over the letters making up _Dad_ until he can breathe again, and then he walks toward his daughter.

~(OUAT)~

_Whoo. Okay. That was long. And don't worry, we'll see the other letters, too…this chapter just ended up with a lot of David perspective (what else is new) because I knew he was about the leave the hospital part of the story. Didn't know Henry was going to go with him until I got there, and Henry surprised me by asking to join the hunt for Graham. Let me know what you thought!_


	20. To Build a Home

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the massive delay on this…if you've been following you on Tumblr, you saw my updates on the computer situation, but if you don't: my hard drive had some sort of mechanical failure while I was visiting my family for Christmas, literally while I was proofreading this chapter. Since the whole thing was done, I was hopeful it could be salvaged, so I didn't rewrite it in the week my computer spent at the hospital (read: the Apple Store). Unfortunately, all data was ultimately unsaveable, so I had to rewrite the chapter. That's been going slow, partially because I was traveling, and partially because rewriting something you already had finished is my least favorite thing ever. It's tedious. But. Good news? This sort of delay won't happen again, and isn't indicative of my current time availability.

So. Here we go. Song is "To Build A Home" by Cinematic Orchestra. This is a super long chapter, so hope you don't mind.

Chapter Twenty

_By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top__  
><em>_I climbed the tree to see the world__  
><em>_When the gusts came around to blow me down__  
><em>_Held on as tightly as you held onto me__  
><em>_Held on as tightly as you held onto me..._

_And I built a home__  
><em>_for you__  
><em>_for me_

_Until it disappeared__  
><em>_from me__  
><em>_from you_

When David finally walks the length of the ER and enters Emma's trauma bay, Mary Margaret is sitting in a chair by Emma's head, lightly stroking their daughter's hair, while Henry's hanging back, his elbows resting on the foot of Emma's bed. His letter's in his hands, and David isn't sure if he's just rereading it, or if he simply never got a chance to finish out in the hallway.

Mary Margaret looks up at soon as her husband enters, her eyes a little glassy. "Whale says they have to take her to OR."

His stomach knots up instantly, but David just nods. "Okay."

Henry glances up at him. "Can we go now?"

David nods. "Yeah, bud, we should get going. But they're going to take Emma into surgery soon, so you should say good bye now, alright?"

"'Kay." He turns toward the bed, eyes briefly landing Emma's unconscious form. "Bye, Emma." Without another word, he turns back to David, expectant.

Uneasy, David exchanges a glance with his wife, who's frowning. She hadn't missed the sudden switch back to 'Emma' from 'Mom'.

"Henry…" David kneels down, eye level with his grandson. He hesitates, honesty warring with the need to not scare the boy. "We're all hoping that the, uh, the magic keeps Emma alive as long as Graham is. And there's probably a good chance it does but…we don't _know_ that. And this surgery, it could still be dangerous." Henry just blinks at him, expressionless. "So, if…if you want to take a few minutes, alone with Emma, you can do that."

"No, thanks." His voice is flat, and Henry's eyes skirt to the ground.

"Kid-"

"She can't hear us, anyway," he mutters, then turns abruptly and leaves the ER.

David stares after him for a moment, concerned, until he feels Mary Margaret's hand on his arm. "I'll talk to him." She nods toward Emma, expression softening. "Why don't _you_ take that moment alone with her?"

"Don't you need to-"

"I'm going to walk with her to the OR," she cuts him off, then forces a smile. "So you go ahead."

She hugs him tightly, then squeezes his hand before walking away, leaving him alone with their daughter.

"Okay, Emma…" He says in a soft voice, bending down at the head of Emma's bed, resting his chin on the edge of the mattress. "Let's you and me make a deal. I'm gonna go and find Graham, okay? So you have to promise to stay alive until I can get him and his heart back here for you. Sound good?" He pauses, the space where her answer would be. "Good." He reaches out, resting a hand on Emma's hair, his voice cracking as he says, "Please live, Emma. Live for me, okay, sweetheart?"

He hears footsteps, and looks up, startled, to see several silhouettes hovering outside the curtain, presumably doctors ready to take Emma to surgery.

Leaning forward, David brushes his lips against his forehead, and for a moment, wild, irrational hope surges through him. If love were enough, he could wake her up.

But Emma's eyes don't open.

Sighing shakily, David rests his forehead against Emma's, until the curtain opens and an intern leans in apologetically. "Your Highness, we need to prep her for surgery."

"Yeah, okay," David agrees before dropping his voice and whispering, "I love you, Emma. I'll be back soon, okay?"

Slowly, he backs out of the trauma bay, not taking his eyes off Emma his daughter the last possible second.

~(OUAT)~

When Mary Margaret catches up with Henry outside of the ER, he's leaning against the wall next to Ruby, arms folded tightly across his chest.

"Hey…" She touches his shoulder, and the boy looks up, face blank. "You alright?"

"Yes," he replies flatly.

"You know, Henry…if you'd rather stay here, and wait for your mom's surgery to be done, you can. Your grandpa will be fine on his own."

"No, I want to go," Henry tells her dispassionately. He isn't making eye contact, focusing instead on a point behind her head.

She studies him for a beat longer, but his face doesn't change. Finally, Mary Margaret just squeezes Henry's shoulder gently. "Alright, buddy. He'll be glad for the company."

With a long, shaky sigh, Mary Margaret leans against the wall beside Ruby, who reaches over and squeezes her arm reassuringly.

After a moment, David walks out of the ER, red eyed and shaken. Henry immediately pushes off the wall, voice brisk, "Are we going?"

"Yeah, kid, we're going." He meets his wife's gaze. "They're prepping her now."

"I'll go. Stay with her until the OR…" Mary Margaret steps toward him, one hand cupping his cheek. "You two go ahead. Find Graham."

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I know." She wraps her arms around him.

They hold each other tightly for a moment until she feels David kiss her temple, then whisper firmly, "She'll be okay."

"She will," Mary Margaret echoes, pushing back to smile shakily at him. "Just be careful."

"We will…" He kisses her, soft and quick, a promise. "Love you."

"Love you, too." She turns to Henry and gently smoothes back the hair from his forehead. "You be good, okay? Be safe?"

"I will." His eyes are on the floor.

Mary Margaret sighs, eyes finding David's again. She nods toward the ER. "I should go in there."

"Okay. Go be with our girl." He weaves their fingers together and squeezes. "I'll see you soon."

She squeezes back, gently, before dropping his hand and heading back into the ER and toward Emma.

As soon as she's gone, David turns to Ruby. "You're staying?"

She nods instantly. "Of course."

"Thank you." He draws a deep breath, then clamps a hand on Henry's shoulder. "Ready, bud?"

"Yeah, let's go."

~(OUAT)~

She curses under her breath when she approaches the town line. The crowd there is small, but it's still more than she's ready to face without magic. Once anyone spots her, it's over. They will want revenge.

There's a horizontal line of people, straddling one side of the town's boundary, and it isn't hard to figure out the debate; they're wondering if they can cross.

Not that she would tell them, but Regina doesn't know either. She has no answers about what happens in the aftermath of the curse. She'd been able to tell Rumplestiltskin what she wanted, the nature of everyone's punishment, but she'd been given little information about breaking it, or what happened after.

Her lips curl into a disgusted sneer as she thinks of the imp. Obviously, him keeping her in the dark had been deliberate.

Regina's eyes flick to the rearview mirror; a car's approaching behind her. Quickly, she pulls off the side of the road, joining a row of cars already there.

The car behind her parks on the opposite side of the road, and Regina rolls down her window before slinking down in her seat, out of sight.

She can hear their voices as they walk toward the group already assembled.

"…probably not, but who's going to be the first one to test it?"

"So why even bother coming?"

"Yeah, go on to the cemetery if you'd rather, I heard most people are already lining up for the portal."

Regina jolts slightly at that, inferring that 'the portal' must have opened back to the Enchanted Forest, to their old world.

For a moment, her thoughts race alongside her hope. Surely there's a way to get her power back there, surely she can regain control.

Reason stops her. Maybe someday, when she has a plan, but not yet. Not right away, when their anger is fresh.

The voices have passed now, and Regina straightens up enough to see three people she doesn't know join the line.

It occurs to her that she could just step on the gas, barrel through the crowd and leave them debating whether they can cross the line to follow her, if they're even brave enough to take her on. But for some reason, she doesn't want to let on that she's running.

Let them stay afraid of her for as long as possible.

A group breaks free of the line and, after a moment of conversation, starts down the road. Just before she ducks out of sight again, Regina recognizes the huddle of short men strutting down the street.

_Snow's idiot friends._

Soon they're close enough for her to hear them through the open window.

"…doesn't matter anyway. 'D rather go home."

"But what if _she's_ there?"

"Surely the curse breaking would affect her power-"

"Not necessarily-"

"None of this matters right now. We should be at the hospital, while Snow waits for Emma."

"She doesn't want all of us there at once…"

"We should at least stay close-"

Regina's body stiffens, anger flaring once again and trickling slowly through her veins, the beginning of something.

If Emma's alive, how the hell is the curse broken?

If she's alive, Regina was wrong; Snow may not have paid for what she did, after all.

And if she's alive, she will have Henry. He will call her mom and slip happily into his new, intact family.

Regina can't have that. She has to find out what's happening, and, as long as she has no magic, she needs to do it without being seen. A plan begins to formulate, her old instincts returning quickly.

When the dwarves pile between two cars and drive away, Regina cranks her car again, and drives back in the direction she came.

Her first stop is the hospital.

~(OUAT)~

Mary Margaret keeps pace with the gurney, squeezed in between orderlies and interns, her fingers firmly laced with Emma's limp ones, until they reach the large elevator that goes down to the OR floor.

She starts to step inside with them, but Whale's intern turns to her. "Alright, Your Highness, this as far as we can let you go."

Unconsciously, she tightens her grip on Emma's hand, her panic bubbling to the surface. "But, um. I thought I could go down the OR with her until…until you put her under."

A hand rests on Mary Margaret's arm, and she turns to find the older, matronly scrub nurse staring at her with a sympathetic expression. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but we only allow family into the OR for young children."

For some reason, the word _children_ triggers a sudden, warm rush of tears to Mary Margaret's eyes, and words get tangled in her throat because she doesn't know how to explain it, how to tell these people that, for a part of her, her daughter was a baby in her arms just a few days ago. That she never got to be there when her daughter was actually a child, and the least they can do is let her be there now.

But the elevator doors are sliding open, and the intern is saying, "I'm sorry, but we have to take her now."

So all Mary Margaret can do is squeeze Emma's hand, kiss her forehead, and whisper, "I love you, Emma. You hold on for me, okay, honey?"

Then her fingers slip out of Emma's before she's ready for them to, and in the next second her daughter is in the elevator and the doors are closing, leaving Mary Margaret standing alone.

For an immeasurable amount of time, Mary Margaret just stands there. She feels lightheaded and disconnected, and she might have stood there, staring at the closed elevator door, through all the hours of Emma's surgery if Ruby hadn't come looking for her.

"Hey…" She touches Mary Margaret's shoulder, ducking her head to make eye contact. Ruby's face melts into warm concern. "Let's go find a waiting room, okay? Sit down for awhile." She tucks her hand in the crook of Mary Margaret's elbow, adding, "I'll have a nurse call down to the OR, let them know where we are…Whale'll come get us as soon as they're done, okay?"

It takes a moment for Mary Margaret to identify the voice saying "alright" as her own, and by the time she does, her best friend is already gently leading her away.

~(OUAT)~

They stop by the apartment just long enough to gather backpacks with water bottles and a little bit of food. David's head feels split in two, and too many of his thought are hung up on his daughter lying in an OR, and there's a sense gnawing at the back of his mind that he's not thinking this task through, that he's forgetting something.

Still, they're in a hurry. Henry's quiet the ride from the hospital to the apartment, and then from the apartment to the cemetery, until they finally find a place for the car among dozens and dozens of others, and Henry catches his a glimpse into the graveyard and whispers, his eyes growing wide, "Whoa."

There's a line snaking through the cemetery, people weaving between the graves. It's moving fairly quickly, but even as they stare people rush past them and join the line, which winds through the burial plots into the open door of the mausoleum.

"C'mon, kid," David murmurs, shaking himself into action and climbing out of the car. Henry gets out on the other side, and the two of them quickly walk the length of the line, bypassing the people waiting.

A murmur quickly sweeps from the back to the front as people register his presence, and soon David's bombarded by shouted questions. He's moving so fast that he only hears snippets of some of them.

"Your Highness, has the Queen been apprehended?"

"-be worried about-"

"Will the portal be permanent?"

"Will our Storybrooke memories-"

"Does the Queen still have power?"

He keeps a hand on Henry's back and repeats apologies and _excuse me_'s as he rushes to the door of the mausoleum.

Archie seems to be manning the door, ferretting traffic though, and his face breaks into a relieved smile when he sees David. "Prince James."

David manages a smile back, shaking his hand warmly. "Jiminy." He's glad Henry had mentioned this at some point after his memories returned, but it's still jarring to see the cricket in a human form. "You look different."

Grinning wryly, Archie replies, "I guess I do." He lowers his eyes and meets Henry's gaze, and the grin fades. "Henry…"

Henry regards him solemnly. "I was right."

"You were…" His squeezes the boy's shoulder, his face etched with obvious guilt. He looks him right in the eye and says, "Henry, I'm so sorry."

Henry shrugs, a little listlessly, his eyes darting to the ground. "It's okay."

All at once, some shouting breaks out a little ways down the line of people, and Archie glances nervously at the crowd. He looks back at David. "Do you happen to know where Sheriff Swan is? We could use some crowd control."

David's face tightens. "Emma is, um…" He pauses, then says bluntly, "My _daughter_ is in the hospital right now. Regina shot her while Emma was enacting her plan to break the curse."

Archie's eyebrows lift, his eyes wide as he processes this, realizes who Emma is and what she's done. "James-"

Cutting off any sympathies, David continues, "She's having surgery now, but to make sure she wakes up…we need to find Graham. And to do that we need to go through that portal and get him."

Archie seems a little stunned by this onslaught of information, but he swallows the questions that rush forward. "Of course…" He stops the steady flow from the line momentarily and waves David and Henry through. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

The coffin inside the mausoleum is still pushed to the side, the staircase revealed. David lets Henry go first, and he follows his grandson down into the room where Graham was held captive, where Emma was shot.

"_Wow_," Henry gasps quietly when they reach the bottom, his eyes shooting directly to the cell where Graham had been kept. The bars are still broken and twisted from where Regina had them wrap around Emma, leaving a decent sized opening into the cell. And on the far wall, the cinderblocks are gone, replaced by a large circle of shimmering purple light.

But while Henry reacts to the sight of the portal, David can't take his eyes off the horrifyingly large puddle of blood smeared against the stone floor. His stomach turns to water, rolling sickeningly as he stares, fixated, at the evidence of how close Emma came to immediate death.

But then Henry's voice slices through his thoughts. "Is that blood?" The boy's voice constricts, the pitch climbing higher. "Is that _Emma's _blood?"

Jolting back to the present, David instinctively grips Henry's shoulder and pivots him away from the blood, their backs to it. "No," he answers hastily. "No, it's not."

In an instant, Henry recoils from his touch, spinning on his heel away from David as if he's been burned. There's heat in the boy's eyes as he glares up at David. "Yeah it is," he spats angrily, bristling with the righteous indignation of a ten year old. "You're _lying_ to me. All of you, all you ever do is lie, and I'm _sick_ of it."

Without waiting for a response, Henry turns away and strides into the cell, getting behind the few people working up to stepping through the portal.

David blinks after him, shame washing over him. He feels small and stupid and hopelessly out of his depth.

He is a father, _and_ a grandfather. He should know all about dealing with kids by now, should be an expert. Yet he can't even walk the line between protecting a kid and telling them the truth. He can't gauge the significance of Henry being ten, instead of nine or eight or seven, because he knew his daughter at ten minutes and twenty-eight years old, skipping everything in between.

Henry glances over his shoulder at David, his eyes still cold and unforgiving, but he doesn't wait for his grandfather before stepping through the portal, and as soon as Henry disappears, David sprints forward, inadvertently cutting in front of others lining up and slipping into the portal after his grandson.

~(OUAT)~

When she leaves the hospital with what she needs, Regina sets about tracking down Gold, while still taking care to remain undetected. The streets have mostly cleared by now, as more and more people head to the portal.

The first time she goes by his shop it's empty, but on her second visit, he's there, surveying the various items and appearing to pack some of them.

He glances up when the bell on the door jingles, and immediately smirks. "I'd have thought you'd be miles from town by this time, dearie."

Regina arches an eyebrow, feeling in control for the first time since the curse broke. "I was on my way out," she confesses blithely. "But a few pieces of information caught my attention." She crosses her arms, eyeing him. "Is it true she's still alive?"

"It is," he replies casually. "A happy ending for all, it seems. Miss Swan broke the curse, _and_ she may get to live. Seems her heart stopped just long enough for it to break. Spared on a technicality."

Regina's eyes flash, and she moves closer to him. "You seem to be forgetting who you're talking to, Rumple. I _know_ magic, and I know that girl should _not_ be able to live if the curse doesn't exist. So why don't you tell me what's going on?"

Gold hops up on the counter, shooting her a maddening grin. "Why would I do that?"

"Please," Regina scoffs. "You clearly had your own purpose for helping her break this curse. Let's not pretend you suddenly care about that insipid family."

"True. But the fact is," he counters smoothly. "I'd much rather have _them_ owe me a favor than you at the moment. You see," he flashes a smile, "_you_ no longer have anything to offer me."

"Oh?" A victorious smirk curls Regina's left, and she lifts her chin a little higher, expression suggesting she has him right where she wants him. "I'm not so sure…"

In a swift motion, Regina reaches into her pocket and pulls out the item she'd gone to the hospital to procure: a digital camera and, more importantly, the most recent photo taken, just an hour ago.

She passes it wordlessly to Gold, and as he stares down at the small screen, his suspicious expression melting into one of total shock and then, after a moment, pure blissful joy.

"Belle…." His voice, barely a breath, transforms just from saying the name. "She's alive?" Then, realization dawns, and his face twists into an expression of fury. "_You_…"

In a nanosecond his hands are wrapped around her throat. "_Where is she?"_

In spite of her position, Regina remains calm. She'd expected this. "You kill me," she chokes out. "And there'll be no one alive who knows."

"I'll find her," Gold growls, inches from Regina's face.

"How sure are you?" Regina forces out, eyes flashing challengingly.

With a roar, Gold releases her, stepping back, his eyes wild.

"You tell me what I need to know," Regina says calmly, massaging her throat. "And Belle is all yours."

"_Don't_ say her name," Gold commands in a dangerous voice. Drawing a breath, he asks, "How do I know she's alive? That the picture isn't old?"

"There's a date and time on the photo, you idiot," Regina purrs. "_Now_. Let's try this again. _How_ is Emma Swan still alive?"

"The former sheriff," Gold answers without hesitation. "You crushed his heart and he survived…because of _her_. Whatever heart he has now, it's tied to hers, magically, somehow, and because he's still alive, so is she."

"And the Huntsman is…?"

"They sent him back to our world. Through the Mad Hatter's hat," Gold's talking quickly now. "Her heart's still failing though, he's too far away…the prince has gone through the portal to bring him back while Miss Swan's in surgery. Now _where is_-"

"Hold on," Regina interrupts. She's pacing slightly, working through the implications. "So the Swan woman is in the hospital, having surgery…" It isn't safe there, to waltz into the hospital in Storybrooke would be too conspicuous. Whatever doctors, nurses, and patients are still around, they'd surely see her. "But if I got to the Huntsman, if I were to kill him…it'd be the same as killing her."

"_Yes_. Now tell me where to find Belle."

"One more thing." Regina stops pacing. "I know you, and your fondness for magical artifacts…you've been after the secret of Jefferson's hat for years. After Miss Swan used it…I assume you managed to lift it?"

Gold rounds the counter without further prompting, producing the slightly crumpled hat and tossing it to Regina, uncaring. "She left it at the cemetery after sending him back, and I retrieved it. _Now tell me where you have Belle_."

"Of course." Regina smirks, turning the hat over in her hands. "A deal's a deal."

~(OUAT)~

It comes out in the woods.

That's all David can be sure of, at first, when he stumbles out the other side of the portal, squinting against the slices of sunlight cutting through the trees.

There are dozens of people milling around the general vicinity, seeming unsure of where to go. Anxiety is tugging at David's chest seconds before he realizes the flaw in his plan.

For some reason, he'd been vaguely expecting to return to the place he'd been when the curse was cast, as if he'd simply reappear in the castle. He hadn't stopped to consider the expanse of their old realm, or the fact that the portal could emerge anywhere.

"So where do we go?" He turns around to see Henry staring up at him, eyes narrowed and impatient.

"I, uh…" David's eyes are darting around his surroundings, as if something distinctive might emerge from the array of trees. "I'm not sure."

People start to notice him, then, and once again David's crowded with questions.

"Your Highness, will this portal be permanent?"

"Do you know where exactly we are?"

"Should we be worried about the Queen?"

David runs a hand through his hair, overwhelmed. After a moment, though, he squares his shoulders and raises his voice, addressing the crowd. "Excuse me, everybody!" A hush falls over the crowd, and those who had drifted further away head back toward him, listening intently. David clears his throat before continuing, "Um…I'm sorry I don't have more answers for you right now. This is all very sudden, and obviously it's a lot to take in. But I don't have anymore information about the portal, or anything else than you do." He pauses, the words coming easier as he slowly recalls how to do this, how to lead. "I'm not sure where the Queen is, but we are fairly certain she's been stripped of her magical powers-" There's a collective sigh of relief, and some scattered cheers, at this. "-and last we heard she was heading out of town."

This prompts an annoyed reaction, voices tripping over other voices as people protest this, crying for justice. David holds up a hand and says, even louder, "I know this is a lot to process, and there are many things we'll have to figure out. And soon, I promise, we'll figure everything out together." He draws a breath, glancing down at Henry, who instantly looks away. "But right now, my daughter's hurt. She nearly died breaking the curse."

Hushed murmurs sweep through the crowd as people process this, swapping information on Snow and James' daughter, the rumors about her being the savior. David continues above the din, "So right now, my priority is to save her. And to do that, we have to track down Sheriff Graham." There's another mass hum of speculation. "We know he's somewhere in this world, so if any of you happen to run into him today…please send him toward the castle. It's of the utmost importance. And if anyone recognizes our location, please come see me. Thank you."

Conversation buzzes to life as soon as he falls silent, and David shifts his backpack on his shoulder, looking down at Henry and saying in a normal tone, "If we head to higher ground, we may be able to see the castle in the distance, at least enough to know which direction to head."

"But we don't know where Graham came through in the hat," Henry says shortly. "And he might not remember Emma anyway, so why would he be at the castle?"

"He probably isn't…but remember, your grandmother said there's a whistle there to help us find him."

Henry scowls, looking unconvinced. He aims a kick at a rock on the ground, muttering, "Probably not if he's super far away."

"Your Highness?"

David glances up to see an old man hovering beside him. "Yes?"

"There's a stream, about a quarter mile that way." He points. "I'm fairly sure it opens up under Banshee Bridge, in a mile or so."

It's a landmark he knows, and David seizes on it. "In which direction?"

"That way."

David follows the man's finger, then swivels in the other direction, getting his bearings. "You're certain?"

"Pretty confident, Your Highness, yes."

He touches the man's arm, nodding, making himself smile with gratitude. "Thank you."

The man nods and steps away. Turning to Henry, David says, "If he's right, I know the direction of the castle. If we start walking there, we should get there just before nightfall." He grits his teeth in frustration. Idiotically, he'd been thinking he could get back by the time Emma was out of surgery.

There was so much he hadn't considered. Where the portal would come out. The lack of carriages or horses.

There's a fear pulsing in him, now, and he tries to close his mind off to worst case scenarios, but they come anyway.

He pictures walking into that hospital, Graham and Henry behind him. Finding Emma's hospital bed empty, Mary Margaret sitting in the chair, sobbing…

David physically shuts his eyes, willing the image away. He forces himself to focus, turning to Henry. "You ready?"

"Yeah, let's go," Henry replies crisply. It's a tone that makes it clear he isn't happy about this, even though they have to work together. It would be amusing, hearing that tone from a ten year old, if it didn't make David feel even more useless and incompetent.

~(OUAT)~

Mary Margaret sits next to Ruby in an empty waiting room.

Ruby's got a magazine folded in one hand, but she hasn't turned the page for the last hour. She keeps sneaking glances at Mary Margaret, who's been sitting stone still and silent, with a numb, expressionless look on her face.

For the first two hours, Ruby doesn't press her. She just holds her magazine without reading it, keeping a careful watch on her best friend. She reaches out and squeezes her arm occasionally, or rests a hand on her back, but for awhile, she mostly leaves Mary Margaret alone.

But Ruby knows her best friend, so she sees it: the moment everything threatens to break. She sees the barely perceptible tremble of Mary Margaret's lips, and the way the tears that have been in and out of her eyes threaten to brim over.

So Ruby knows enough to distract her, to get her talking. "Snow?"

Mary Margaret jumps slightly, startled by the abrupt break in the silence. "Yeah?"

"Henry said earlier, right after the curse broke…he told me you already remembered who you are. How is that?"

"Emma." Mary Margaret smiles thinly, her eyes shuttered with sadness. "She realized it was true, and she broke our curse…she broke Graham's first, without even realizing what she was doing…"

Then she's off, telling Ruby everything. She goes back to the last moments before the curse, the labor coming too soon, her decision to send Emma away, Charming nearly dying trying to get the newborn to the wardrobe. Then she jumps ahead, filling Ruby in on everything that's happened since Graham remembered and then disappeared, right up to the cemetery this morning.

"We should've known," Mary Margaret finishes, her voice catching. "We're her parents, we're supposed to keep her safe."

"Sounds like she worked pretty hard to stop you from figuring out what she was gonna do," Ruby says gently.

Sighing, Mary Margaret continues, "But it's not just this it's…her whole _life_." She's blinking rapidly now, fighting tears. "God, she _breaks_ my heart, Red. Some of what she's said….Charming doesn't even know all of it."

"What do you mean?"

"Just…he's ben having a hard time with it, since we first found out. He's so angry, that we missed everything, that she doesn't get that time back, so I never…I didn't want to make it worse, but some of what Emma would say, when we were just living together…" Tears knot her throat, and the threat of them works its way into her voice. "She talked about being nothing but a _meal_ _ticket_, about living with these families who barely even remembered her name, and who knows what they did to her she never mentioned. _We_ did that to her, we sent her away all by herself…"

"Hey…" Ruby covers Mary Margaret's hand with her own, meeting her eyes and saying, "They would have killed her. You said they almost killed James, and they _would_ _have_ killed Emma if she hadn't disappeared in that wardrobe. Alright? Simple as that, you _had_ to send her away. And not even to break the curse, to save all of us…you were saving _her life_."

"I guess-"

"No." Ruby's voice is firm. "No, no guessing. It's the truth, and you know it. You saved your daughter's life, Snow. And all of you getting torn apart for so long, it isn't your fault. It's Regina's, and there was nothing you could have done."

Mary Margaret presses her trembling lips together, nodding hard until she can speak, voice barely a whisper. "Thank you." She exhales slowly, dropping her head into her hands. "We've had less than three days together that…that can't be all we get."

"It won't be."

"You don't know that-"

"But I believe it," Ruby cuts her off. "I really do, after…after everything she's done for everyone else. Gold made it sound like it's amazing that she's even alive now, so whatever this magic is linking her to Graham, it's obviously really powerful, right? So James and Henry, they'll bring Graham back, and it'll be even stronger, and Emma's gonna wake up."

"I hope so," Mary Margaret says in a breathy voice, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against clasped hands, almost as if she's praying. "It's just…" Mary Margaret lets out a high, breathless laugh. "She called me _Mom_. After she got shot she…she said Mom." Her face tightens. "The only time my daughter calls me that _can't_ be when she's dying."

"It won't be," Ruby murmurs again.

Suddenly Mary Margaret straightens up, pulling Emma's folded letter from her pocket. "She also, um…" Her voice falters, and it takes her a minute to continue. "She wrote it, here."

"What is that?"

Mary Margaret slowly unfolds the letter, running her finger over the _Dear Mom_ at the top of the page as Ruby leans over to look. "Emma…she wrote us all letters, the night before last. She left them with August, she…she spent all yesterday with us, knowing she was going to die and not being able to say everything she needed to."

"Oh, God…" Ruby's face has gone pale, her eyes wide as she really considers Emma's perspective of the story Mary Margaret told her. What it meant for Emma to decide to sacrifice herself.

"I didn't read it," Mary Margaret confesses in a small voice. "I…I saw the _Mom_, and I realized what the letter was, and I thought of her writing it and knowing what was going to happen to her, and I just…I lost it. Broke down crying and…and then David was fighting August and I…never read it."

Ruby scrutinizes her friend's face, reading the guilt there, and says softly, "It's okay, you'll read it when you're ready."

"No." Mary Margaret tightens her grip on the letter. "No, I should…Emma wanted me to read it."

"Okay."

"Okay." She draws a steadying breath, and lowers her eyes to the letter.

_Dear Mom,_

_I don't know how to start this. I guess, most of all, I'm writing these to say that I'm sorry. I know that won't matter for a long time, but just know…I am so, so sorry for lying, and for leaving. The last thing I want to do is hurt any of you. _

_You know by now what happened, I guess. What I lied about. From the moment Gold told me that the only way to break the curse was for Regina to kill me, I knew I couldn't tell you. I knew you and David would stop me, so I had to make sure you didn't realize anything was wrong. I knew all that, but what I didn't know was how hard it would be not to say anything that sounded like a goodbye. I didn't realize it until a few hours ago, when I sent Graham away. He wasn't safe, down there in that cage, so there wasn't time to wait with him but…it wasn't enough. I had to make him think we would see each other again, for sure, so there was no way I could say everything I wanted to. And tomorrow, we will spend the day together and I will make sure I enjoy every single second we all get together as a family, but I still won't be able to say what I need to._

_So I'm writing these letters. And I know they might hurt you, at first, and I'm sorry about that, too. But I hope, in a couple months, you and David and Henry will be okay, and maybe you'll take the letter out sometimes and read it without it hurting. Because as much as I want you guys to be okay and move on (I really, really do) I also really want to know that you know what you meant to me._

_I've always moved around a lot. Never stayed in one place very long, even when I started being able to afford nicer apartments. It was always boxes I never fully unpacked in places without much furniture, or sometimes sublets full of things that weren't mine. I never thought of any apartment, or any city, as __home__, not in any deeper way than the place I slept every night. Until you. You changed it. And I couldn't figure out why, because yours was another apartment full of stuff that wasn't mine, in a town I didn't really know. But pretty quickly, faster than I'd ever gotten comfortable in a place, I was thinking of it as home, the first one I'd ever had._

_You changed something else, too, Mare. Something even bigger than that. See, when Henry was born, I loved him right away. And that never stopped, even though I barely got ten minutes with him (I guess you know what that's like). I figured there was nothing I could do about that. He was my son, of course I was going to love him. I had no choice. But after he was born, after they took him away…I didn't plan on letting myself care about anyone else. Actively worked against it. I figured loving other people, needing other people…it was a mistake, because you couldn't count on them. And for ten years, I made good on that. _

_But then I met you. And for some reason, you trusted me and you took me in and you seemed to give a damn what happened to me. You were the first person who ever did. And sometimes, I got this instinctual fear, this need to cut ties and get away before you realized what I'm really like, that I'm actually not such a good person. But I couldn't do that. Because I cared about you, too. I loved you. You changed that. Graham changed it, too, and then so did David, but you were the first. You were the best friend I've ever had. And even before I realized that you were my mother…you were already my family._

_So don't feel guilty. I know it's basically a parental instinct, since I feel that with Henry all the time, but you have no reason to. You already gave me so much. And I made sure none of you could find out and stop me, so don't feel like you should have. You did everything right. _

_You changed my life, and I'm so glad I'm your daughter, and I love you. And I'm sorry. I know this letter still isn't enough, and that the few months we got together, or the few days depending on how you look at it, weren't enough either. But it never would have been. We missed so much already, it was always going to feel like we were cheated. So you and David and Henry…be okay. Please. Be a family, the family we missed out on the first time. Please._

_I love you,_

_Emma._

~(OUAT)~

They walk.

David's careful to leave a trail through the woods, mindful of their need to get back to the portal once they find Graham.

He tries talking a few times, telling Henry about the castle, or the lands in general, or the horses they used to have, the ones he wishes he had right now. Each time, Henry merely replies with a disinterested murmur, or sometimes nothing at all. So after an hour and a half or so, David stops trying, and they move along in silence.

When he notices Henry falling behind, panting slightly, David slows his pace and slings his backpack off his shoulder. "We should take a break."

"I'm fine," Henry says churlishly, stubbornly catching up and walking past David.

"Hey…" David catches up with the boy, gently gripping his arm. "_I_ need a break, okay, kid? Just five minutes. We need some water. If I collapse in a few miles, I don't think you can carry me." He tries a smile. "Plus, _you_ don't know where the castle is."

Henry doesn't smile back. "Fine."

"Good." David sits on a large, gnarled root of a tree, pulling a water bottle out of his pack and watching as Henry pointedly walks several yards away from his grandfather before sitting down in a patch of leaves and rummaging through his own pack.

"Make sure you drink something," David tells him as Henry tears into a pack of potato chips.

Henry obeys, pulling out a water bottle and untwisting the lid, without even glancing at David.

David bites into a dark red apple, his gaze still hovering on his grandson. Henry crosses his legs and leans his elbows on his knees, chin resting on one palm.

After a few moments of silence, David tentatively stands, coming to sit in front of Henry. The boy starts, like he might run, but David rests a hand on Henry's knee, expression softening into earnestness. "Henry, I…I'm sorry. I really am. I shouldn't have lied to you, it just…I said it without thinking, I was just mad at myself for not thinking to try to keep you from seeing all that blood. But I'm sorry."

Henry holds his gaze for a few seconds before his eyes flit to the ground. "'S okay," he mumbles, grabbing a twig in his hand and snapping it. "It's not even _you_ I'm mad at, anyway."

"Then…who're you mad at?"

Henry's quiet for a long moment, the muscles in his face tightening as he keeps grabbing sticks and slapping them.

"Henry-"

In a swift motion, Henry jerks away from David and leaps to his feet, yelling, "She _lied_ to me!"

David stares up at him, unsure of what to do. Finally, he just waits.

Henry jerks his backpack off the ground, rummaging violently inside. He pulls his hand out with Emma's letter clenched in his fist, and he hurls the pack to the ground. "Emma wrote this _two_ _nights_ ago! Did you know that? She knew what was gonna happen to her _two nights ago_, and last night she came to my room and I asked her, I _asked_ if it was going to be dangerous and she said _no_! She told me right to my face that everything was gonna get better, and even this morning she, she said she would see me later and that she would come and get me right after she broke the curse. She said all that even though she knew _two nights ago_ that she was gonna be dead!"

David stands up now, reaching for his grandson. "Oh, Henry-"

"She _LIED TO ME_!" Henry's screaming now, screaming so it feels like his throat is tearing open.

"I know," David tells him, his voice strained. He puts his hands on Henry's forearms, bending down to look the boy in the eye. "Henry, I know she did, she lied to me, too. She lied to all of us, but…she was just trying to protect us. In my letter, Emma said she knew that if she didn't break the curse, and take Regina's power, none of us would be safe from her, even you. Buddy, she didn't ask to be the savior. She didn't want this, she never would've wanted to leave you…" He bites his lip, swallowing against a lump in his throat. "She was trying to keep us all safe. She was being a hero, Henry, and she only lied so we wouldn't stop her."

"I _don't_ _care_," Henry snaps, jerking away from David's grip. He's yelling again, voice shaking with anger, but there are tears rolling down his cheeks. "_I DON'T CARE! _Do you really think that makes it _better_?! Because it _doesn't_. I don't _care_ why she did it, all I know is she lied to me. Emma was gonna just _die_, and she still might, and she _lied_ about it! The Evil Queen lied to me for my whole life, and I _don't need_ more grown-ups who just lie to me." He closes his fist around the letter and drops it on the ground. "And when Emma wakes up, I'll tell her so."

With that, Henry picks up his backpack, throwing it violently over his shoulder. He pauses to grind the toe of his shoe against the letter, smearing it with dirt, and then turns on his heel and continues on.

~(OUAT)~

She's momentarily concerned, afraid that her lack of magic means it won't work.

But she needn't have worried. The magic is clearly inherent to the object, because as soon as she spins that hat, it takes on a life on his own, purple smoke lifting from over the brim.

A smile curling her lips, Regina steps into the hat, going home for the first time in twenty-eight years.

~(OUAT)~

The first thing she does is read the letter again.

Then again.

She starts it for a fourth time, but the tears finally make it impossible for her to see the words on the page.

In the next second she's sobbing, doubled over the waist, one hand pressed over her face.

"Sssh, it's okay…." Ruby wraps an arm around Mary Margaret's shoulder, reaching out and gently taking the letter from Mary Margaret's hand and folding it up, putting it carefully aside. "Everything's gonna be okay."

For a few minutes, they sit like that: Ruby with one arm around her best friend, letting Mary Margaret cry.

All at once her sobs subside, and she straightens up resolutely, wiping the heels of her hands over her face. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize to me," Ruby tells her soothingly.

Mary Margaret inhales a slow, shaky breath. "I just…I hate this. Just _waiting_, it…it was horrible the first time Emma was in the hospital, and it's even worse now." She closes her eyes, leaning back in her chair, exhausted. "Last time, Whale…he told Graham and me that she was never going to wake up. That we had to decide what, um, what to do." Her voice hitches, and she's quiet for a moment before continuing. "I thought she was gonna die."

"I wish…"

Mary Margaret's eyes fly open at the tremulous note in Ruby's voice, and when she looks up at her best friend, her dark eyes are unusually bright. "I wish I could have been there for you. Through all of that."

"Red-"

"It just feels so wrong. This whole time, we've just…barely been on the fringes of each other's lives. I hate that."

"I think…that was probably the point," Mary Margaret says slowly. One corner of her mouth lifts in a faint smile, and she meets Ruby's eyes, her face softening. "Regina wanted to take away everything I loved." Ruby gives her the same small smile back, taking her hand and squeezing it, and Mary Margaret continues, "But you're here now. Thank you for staying."

"Of course. I'm not going anywhere."

Mary Margaret sighs. "Good, because I'd be going crazy otherwise. Crazier than I already am, I mean."

"Everything'll be fine," Ruby says, slipping immediately back into reassurance mode. "David shouldn't have a problem finding Graham once he gets the whistle."

"I just hope they're back soon."

"Well…" Ruby hesitates, glancing sideways at Mary Margaret, gauging her level of calm. "I realized something, when we were sitting here. We don't know where the portal opens. They may come out a good distance from the castle. And Graham."

"Oh…" Mary Margaret's face twists, panic welling in her eyes. "I hadn't thought of that. And they don't have carriages or horses or….it could take them _days_ to get to the castle, and who knows where Graham came out…"

"Hey, it's okay. Emma will hold on." Ruby pauses, thinking. "We could get someone to go through, see where it comes out. I can call August."

Mary Margaret doesn't answer for a moment. Then, her eyebrows furrow, and she glances at Ruby. "Why do you have August's number?"

Heat rising to her cheeks, Ruby looks abruptly way. "Um…normal, innocent reasons?"

Arching an eyebrow, Mary Margaret scrutinizes her for a second before smirking slightly. "You _do _know who August really is, right?"

"No…" Ruby frowns. Mary Margaret had mentioned August had helped convince Emma, but she hadn't gone into detail. "He's not cursed, so…I figured he wasn't from our world…"

"Oh, he isn't cursed. But he is from our world. He came through when Emma did, when he was a kid. That's how he knew." Eye glinting, Mary Margaret watches Ruby, seeing her do the mental math.

"But…who?"

"Pinocchio."

"_What_? No, he isn't!"

"I promise he is."

"_No_."

"Yup."

"Oh my God, I used to _babysit_ him!"

"I think he had a crush on you then. Always following you around-"

"Oh my _God_."

Mary Margaret's laughter surprises even her, but it feels good.

At the sight of her best friend doubled over, laughing at her, Ruby's mortified expression melts into a wry, genuine grin.

"Well, at least my inadvertent perviness cheers you up."

"It does, a little."

"I live to serve."

~(OUAT)~

"There it is."

They step out of the woods, at the crest of a hill. The castle looms in a distance, and David stares at his home for the first time in almost three decades.

Henry's been silent and brooding for the last few hours, but now all traces of animosity have fallen from his face, as he stares wide eyed at the real life version of the pictures in his storybooks.

"Wow."

David glances at him, shooting Henry a tentative smile. "Pretty nice, huh?"

"Is that where…I mean, do you think we'll come live here?"

"I hope so, kid." David squeezes Henry's shoulder, and for a second they stand in silence, taking in the view. Then, David starts walking. "We should go. Still a few hours before we'll get there."

~(OUAT)~

When Whale walks around the corner, Mary Margaret jumps to her feet without knowing why. Ruby's standing beside her in seconds, a steadying hand on her back.

Mary Margaret's throat works furiously, and she finally has to force the words out because Whale's expression is unreadable. "Is she…?"

"She alive," Whale replies crisply, but he's close enough now for her to see something grim in his eyes., so her relief is pulled up short.

"So, the surgery," Ruby says impatiently. "It went well?"

"Technically speaking, it went perfectly," Whale says, but his tone doesn't match the good news of his words. "We repaired the damage done by the bullet, got it out."

Mary Margaret's throat is too tight to speak, so Ruby demands, "_But_?"

"But her heart is still failing. And it's taking longer and longer to get it started again."

"Why?" Mary Margaret forces out. Fear is curled around her lungs, tightening, making every breath difficult.

"There's no physical explanation," Whale says, sounding agitated by the fact. "So there's nothing else I can do." He pauses, and is greeted with nothing but silence. "A team will keep restarting her heart, for as long as we can. But all we can do is hope that your husband gets back with the sheriff soon…and that whatever this _magic_ is that's keeping her alive also protects against the potential brain damage that comes from the heart depriving the brain of oxygen."

Her legs going liquid beneath, Mary Margaret falls back into her chair with a hard thud. Ruby's sitting beside her in seconds, reminding her softly, "Hey, you told me they said that last time, remember? They said her heart had been stopped for too long, that she wouldn't wake up."

"Yeah…" Mary Margaret nods hard, fumbling for the memory of answering her cell phone in the hospital cafeteria, of Graham's voice and the sweetest words she'd ever heard, _Emma's awake._ "Yeah, you're right."

Ruby looks up at Whale. "Can she see her?"

"They're moving her to a recovery room now, so yes, you can both sit with her." Whale takes two steps away, then hesitates. "Listen I'm…going."

Mary Margaret stiffens, her eyes flashing. "_What?_"

"There's a team that knows to stay near her room, to be ready with the crash cart." His voice is calm, measured. "There's nothing else surgical going on here, you don't need me."

"But…."

Ruby touches Mary Margaret's arm, glaring at Whale. "It's okay, Snow, let him go. Emma just needs Graham to come back, alright?" She pauses, then asks Whale, "What's the room number?"

~(OUAT)~

The muscles in David's legs are aching by the time they get to the castle, and Henry's so tired he can't even register awe at the expanse of the castle.

"Home sweet home," David murmurs, as he opens the large front door.

Henry follows him inside, his eyes darting around, taking it in, but he doesn't speak.

David glances at the boy. "C'mere…"

He leads him into a parlor and nods at Henry to sit in one of the red cushioned chairs. He hands him his last water bottle, halfway full, and tells him, "I'm going to go get the whistle. You rest, but we gotta hurry, okay?"

Henry just nods, too tired to insist that he's fine or to run around exploring. David gives his shoulder a squeeze. "I'll be right back."

David climbs a flight of stairs, then weaves through a couple corridors in the familiar path to the master bedroom.

The hallway between the bedroom and Emma's nursery is littered with dark, red stains, but the bodies of Regina's soldiers are gone. David closes his eyes as he passes the nursery door, desperately shutting down a rush of memories and regrets. He forces himself into a tunnel vision focus.

_Get the whistle. Find Graham. Get the whistle. Find Graham._

He silently recites the mantra over and over as he walks, making it impossible for his mind to snag on anything else.

He bursts into his old room and goes straight to the wardrobe. The whistle, a small, green stem with holes carved in it, is right when his wife had said. David curls his fingers around it and heads back downstairs.

Henry meets him at the bottom of the stairs. "Did you get it?"

David holds up the whistle in answer.

As David reaches the foyer, Henry eyes the object in his hand. "Is it magic?"

"What? No, I don't think so, why?"

"So…" Henry frowns, brow furrowing. "How does it work? We just blow the whistle? How do we know if he'll even hear it?"

"I don't know," David mutters, his tone strained as he grabs the backpack he'd discarded by the door.

"But…he could be _anywhere_, right? We don't know where the hat ended up, how are we supposed to-"

"I _don't_ _know_," David snaps.

Henry eyes go wide with surprise, and David's face instantly falls into guilt. "I…I'm sorry."

"Uh. It's okay."

"No, it's not, I'm just…I'm mad at myself. That I didn't have more of a plan."

Henry studies him for a moment before saying matter of factly, "But you couldn't have changed where the portal came out. Or where Graham is."

Sighing, David runs a hand through his hair, trying to regain that tunnel vision. "I guess." He opens the door, steeling himself. "Let's go."

Henry plucks the whistle from David's hand. "Can I do it?"

They walk to the woods closest to the castle. The sun is almost settled behind the horizon, the sky the dark blue of twilight. Once they're under the trees, Henry looks expectantly at his grandfather. "Now?"

"I guess so."

Henry tentatively lifts the stem to his lips and exhales sharply.

The sound is louder than they'd expected, but it's also less piercing, a single low, mournful note that echoes through the woods.

For a long beat after the whistle sounds, everything is silent. Then, all at once, from a distance, a wolf howls.

Henry's eyes light up. "That's it!"

David's face twists in confusion. "What?"

"Graham, he's the Huntsman! In the book he's always with the wolves."

"So you think…?"

"That's where he must be! Watch!" Henry blows the whistle again, the howl answers. He looks up at David. "Can you tell where it's coming from?"

David's eyes are scanning the woods, like he hopes some hint will present itself. "I…no, it's too far." He grimaces. "Maybe I _should_ have let Ruby come find him…"

The whistle sounds again, and then the howl. Henry points. "It sounds like it's coming closer. From that way."

"Alright, let's…go toward a wolf," David nods.

They hurry off, jogging through the woods. Henry sounds the whistle every few minutes. As the wolf answers back, each time, they realize it's moving closer to them.

After awhile, Henry stops moving, listening to the responding howl. "It's really close." He lifts his voice, "Graham!" He waits, listening. "_Graham_?!"

David comes up behind Henry and touches him lightly on the shoulder, while keeping eyes fixed on the woods in front of them. "Henry, remember he…may not know that name. Or us."

Henry's face falls; he'd forgotten that part.

David forces a reassuring smile. "Blow the whistle again."

Henry does, and this time the howl sounds from their immediate vicinity.

The echo has barely faded when a wolf comes streaking through the trees toward them.

"C'mon!" Henry runs toward the direction the wolf is coming from, passing the animal when, suddenly, his eyes light up. "Prince!"

David drags his eyes away from the wolf to see his grandson dropping from his knees on the dirt and scoop up the orange cat that had followed the larger animal.

David starts toward Henry when he feels a nudge against his leg. He recoils instinctively; the wolf is staring up at him, one black eye and one red, and with one more nudge, the wolf circles back and trots in the direction it came, letting out a short howl.

Uncertainly, David starts after the wolf, and after only a few steps he notices the figure approaching through the trees.

"Henry…."

At the sound of his grandfather's voice, Henry looks up. "Graham!"

"Remember, he might not…" David's voice trails off.

Graham's close enough to see them now, and suddenly he pulls up short, staring. For a tense moment, the three of them are silent, staring at each other.

Then, Graham's face lights up.

"Henry! David!" He hurries toward them, face lit with palpable, transformative relief.

Graham reaches Henry first, wrapping his left arm around him in a sideways hug as he reaches out to shake David's hand. "The curse, it's broken?"

"Yeah," Henry says softly. "It's broken."

David can get a good look at Graham, now, and he notices the other man's face is ashen. He looks almost sickly. "Are you alright?"

Graham ignores the question, his voice brimming with eagerness, "Where's Em?" Graham's eyes dart past them, hopefully, like he's expecting her to be following them.

There's a beat of silence. Henry looks up David, uncertain.

Graham's stomach tightens sickeningly, dread curling slowly down his spine. "Is….is she back at the castle?"

David clears his throat, forcing himself to meet Graham's eyes. "Graham-"

"No..." Graham stumbles back, his eyes wide and panicked. He looks like he's expecting an attack at any second. "No, she's…the curse is broken, so _where is she?_"

"She's alive, Graham," David tells him quietly. "She _is_ still alive."

"What…what happened?" His voice is small and tight, and Graham can't look David directly in the eye, not liking the fear and pain he reads there.

Henry's the one to answer, bitterness slipping back into his voice. "What happened is that Emma lied to us. Even _you_."

Graham glances from Henry to David. His hands are shaking, the muscles in his face taut and pinched as dread wars with desperation. "What did she-" His words catch in his throat, suddenly lost behind a strangled scream.

"Graham?" David's eyes widen in alarm as Graham's body folds, and he goes down hard on his knees, one fist braced against the ground, the other splayed against his chest. "Graham!"

"What's happening to him?" Henry asks in a high, panicked voice.

"I don't know…" David kneels beside the other man, placing a tentative hand on Graham's back. He can feel the convulsing of his muscles, hear the moaning filtered through clenched teeth. "Graham, talk to me, what's happening…"

After nearly a minute, though, Graham's whole body goes weak, and he slumps over, answering in a breathless voice, "It's fine, it's been happening all day…" He lifts his head, his eyes glassy as he locks his gaze with David's. "_Where is Emma?"_

There's a fear clawing at David's chest that he hasn't had time to examine. "Graham, what's wrong, is your heart-"

"_Tell me where Emma is_!" Graham demands, voice splitting apart in the middle as he gets unsteadily to his feet, eyes wild now.

"She's in the hospital. She's having surgery," David says finally, straightening up and looking Graham in the eye.

Graham's expression freezes. "But …what happened?" His face crumples. "She, she said it was safe, she told me it was safe…"

"Gold told her the only way to break the curse was for her to die. That Regina had to kill her," David's breath hitches in his throat, and he sets his jaw tightly before continuing, "They made up the story about Regina's father's heart so we couldn't stop her. She made sure you were safe, and that we were, too, and then she…lured Regina down there and let Regina take her gun and…" He presses his lips together and shakes his head hard, like that tells the rest of the story.

Graham's whole face has collapsed, and it looks like his body might do the same. "But…she's alive?" he asks unsteadily, squeezing his eyes shut. "You, you said she's alive?"

"Her heart stopped, and the curse broke." Each word David says is carefully chosen, like focusing on his sentence structure can distract him from the fact that he's talking about his daughter's heart stopping. "But they got it started again. Gold says she shouldn't…she shouldn't be alive, not when the curse is broken, but she is, and that's because of you."

Graham opens his eyes at that. "What does that mean?"

"The Queen crushed your old heart," Henry informs him solemnly. "But you still lived. And you still have a heartbeat. It's like you have a new heart, and Gold says it's connected to Emma's."

"But her heart keeps failing," David continues quickly, urgency in his voice now. "Because you're in a different realm, so it's not enough. So they keep having to restart it, which is maybe what you've been feeling all day. Does that sound right?"

Graham nods numbly, hand drifting unconsciously to his chest. He tightens his jaw and lifts his eyes upward, blinking furiously until he gets a grip on himself. "So…that means she'll live, right? That she's okay as long as I am?"

"We don't know." David's voice catches, betraying him. "We don't know how long whatever magic this is will protect her, so we have to get you back there _now_."

"How?"

"A portal opened up, in the cemetery where Regina was holding you. It'll take us most of the night to get back there."

Graham nods, his face setting into grim determination. "So let's go."

Henry picks up Prince and shifts his backpack, as David shrugs one of the straps from around his shoulder so he can reach in. "Emma…she wrote us all letters. This is yours." Graham takes the envelope with shaking fingers, finally letting the tears fill his eyes at the sight of his name in her handwriting, the full truth of what Emma had almost done slamming into him. David's tone softens as he continues, "But hopefully you can read and walk, because we gotta get going."

~(OUAT)~

She comes out near her old castle, the Mad Hatter's hat having a more specific target than any random portal.

The first thing she does is, hopefully, flick her wrist at the first item she sees, summoning an apple from one of her trees.

It doesn't move. Being back in the old land did not restore her powers.

So she fetches tools she hasn't had to use in decades. She practices with the harmless arrows, regaining the skill, feeling the old instincts come back.

Then she packs the more lethal batch, the weapons.

And then Regina sets off to find the Huntsman. Once again, it has come down to stopping his heart.

~(OUAT)~

_A/N: So. Review away! I love how loyal everyone is to this story, through a few hiatuses and all. Things should be pretty regular now that we're in the home stretch of things. Next chapter is shorter than my usual one (particularly this lengthy piece) but it's an important one. Thanks for reading, I'd love to hear what you think! _


	21. Craft of the Father

_A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this took awhile to get up, especially considering that it's a pretty short chapter, but a lot's been going on and I've been pretty busy with work and other writing projects. Still, we're in the home stretch here, and I'm going to try to get the last several chapters up pretty quickly._

_This is the shortest chapter yet, but I think you'll see why. Title and lyrics for this chapter come from "This Woman's Work". Specifically, the Greg Laswell cover, which I adore, and gives me approximately 1000 Charming Family Feelings._

Chapter Twenty-One

_Pray God you can cope._  
><em>I stand outside this woman's work,<em>  
><em>This woman's world.<em>  
><em>Ooh, it's hard on the man,<em>  
><em>Now his part is over.<em>  
><em>Now starts the craft of the father.<em>

_I know you have a little life in you yet._  
><em>I know you have a lot of strength left.<em>  
><em>I know you have a little life in you yet.<em>  
><em>I know you have a lot of strength left.<em>

_I should be crying, but I just can't let it show._  
><em>I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking<em>

They walk.

David leads the way, following the trail he'd carefully left on their first journey to the portal. Henry's a few steps behind him, carrying Prince, and he's casting frequent glances over his shoulder at Graham, who's stoic and silent at the back of the line.

For the first hour, they don't talk, save for David's occasional muttered narration of the trail he'd left. Eventually, though, Henry looks back and, tentatively, asks, "Graham? Do you not wanna read your letter?"

"No," he snaps. Graham immediately winces at the brusqueness of his own tone and explains firmly, "Those were to read if Emma was dead. And she's not dead."

David glances at Graham over his shoulder, but doesn't comment. Falling back to walk alongside him, Henry tells Graham, "Yeah, I wouldn't read it either. Mine just made me mad."

"I'm not mad at Emma," Graham murmurs, his eyes on the ground.

He thinks this is true. He doesn't _feel_ mad at Emma, but there's some part of his brain that thinks he should be. It's currently warring with another part of his brain, the logical part that knows he has no right to be mad, that he'd have done the same thing.

All his thoughts are conflicting, and it's making it so he doesn't feel much of anything. He's using Henry as an excuse not to ask David for more details on Emma's condition, even though Henry undoubtedly knows more than Graham does.

Beside him, Henry's bristling again, muttering about how _he_ is most definitely mad at Emma, and he's ready to tell her so as soon as she wakes up, and that Emma's a liar and did Graham know she thought she'd be dead already?

Graham's working hard to tune this out, when he suddenly drops to his knees.

"Graham!" Henry yells out in alarm. David's already turning when Henry yells at him, "Grandpa, it's happening again!"

A stifled moan slips out of Graham, and he doubles over, clenched fists pressed uselessly against his chest, leaning so far his forehead brushes the leaves scattered on the ground.

It's a long lasting one, but this time there's something screaming above his own pain: fear. However bad this feels for him, whatever it means for Emma is worse.

When the shocks come, three this time before the pain passes as usual, David's kneeling beside him, his own worry for Emma poorly concealed in his eyes. "You alright?"

Graham lifts his head and rasps, "You have to tell me."

David shakes his head, uncomprehending. "Tell you…?"

"What is it? What it…" He rubs his hands over his face, trying to calm down. His voice is quick and clipped when he continues, "It started this morning. And then it feels like a shock, and then it feels better. But it keeps happening. Sometimes really close together, sometimes every hour or so. _All day_."

"I told you," David says in a strained voice. "Emma's heart keeps stopping. They shock it to get it started again…" Closing his eyes, David swipes a hand through his hair, trying to reason. "Your heart…it doesn't mirror hers exactly, then. Yours just hurts when hers stops, but…you feel it when they revive her." Though his words seem directed at Graham, David's muttering almost to himself as he paces. "This morning, the first time it stopped…it took them to longest to get it started." Now, he lifts his eyes, obviously speaking to Graham for the first time, "Could you tell that? Did it hurt longer that time?"

"I…yeah, I think so." Graham picks himself up. Henry's standing apart for the two men, watching, wide eyed.

"So we'll know," David says firmly. "We'll know if it gets worse. And right now we know she's fine." With renewed purpose, he strides forward again.

Graham's eyes flit to Henry, and again, he uses the boy's presence as a reason to keep his questions quiet.

He wants to know if the magic will protect Emma from any brain damage, or other physical repercussions of her heart stopping so often. He wants to know if David has any idea what he'll feel when Emma's heart fails to start again. He wants to know if David's sure it's not too late for Graham to get back and save Emma.

He wants to know, and he doesn't want to know.

So he doesn't ask. Doesn't even voice the uncertainties out loud.

He just follows David and Henry.

~(OUAT)~

It takes her several hours to find the portal.

But she does find it, and from there, Regina's able to ascertain the direction they would have had to go, if they were heading toward the castle. She's even able to pick up what looks like a trail…there's fairly wet ground when they get close to the river, and she's able to pick out the logo on the bottom of Henry's tennis shoe, imprinted in the dirt.

She doesn't trust to trail to stray too far from the portal, and she's less than a quarter of a mile away when she finds a place to wait.

~(OUAT)~

In Storybrooke, there is nothing to do but wait.

Mary Margaret pulls a chair as close to Emma's bed as it will sit. Ruby's is beside hers, a couple of inches back.

Granny comes by. She brings them food that Mary Margaret doesn't eat. The dwarves come, too, all of them, and Leroy leaves at one point and brings back food that Mary Margaret doesn't eat. August comes too, awkward and guilty and barely able to look at Emma, to report that he went through the portal briefly and, from what he could tell, it came out pretty far from the castle.

Around midnight, the hospital staff kicks out most of the visitors, leaving just Ruby, who refuses to leave in spite of their 'family only' policy, and Mary Margaret.

Emma's heart monitors still go crazy every hour or so, and there's always a team rushing in to revive her, but it never stops being terrifying.

~(OUAT)~

Graham's collapsed six times so far; his pace is pale and slick with cold sweat, but he brushes off any suggestions that maybe they should rest.

"I'm holding us up enough," he mutters, eyes narrowed straight ahead. Sometimes, as they walk, his hand drifts unconsciously to his chest, like feeling the beat of his own heart is somehow indicative that Emma's is still okay.

They're about three fourths of the way back (David's pretty sure, at least) when Graham falls again.

David and Henry stop walking, knowing by now that there's nothing they can do but wait for it to pass.

So they wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Alarm begins to trickle down David's spine, a fist closing around his throat, because it's definitely longer, almost doubled.

Then, with great effort, Graham rolls onto his back. His eyes are wild when they lock with David's, and he forces out in a strained, raspy voice, "Something's…wrong…"

The words propel David forward, and he drops to his knees beside the other man. "What…what do you mean, talk to me, Graham, what's wrong?"

David lifts a hand, but then it just hovers there, useless. Panic is threatening to drown him; there's nothing to be done, not when the real source of worry is an entire world away.

The muscles in Graham's face contract and loosen in quick succession. "The shocking…," he gasps. "it stopped."

It takes David a few dizzying moments to process what that means.

If the shocks Graham feels on his heart means the doctor's are restarting Emma's heart, and they've stopped, but he's still in that much pain, it means…

"Emma," he says his daughter's name out loud without meaning to, a desperate, frightened sound.

~(OUAT)~

"What's happening?" Mary Margaret demands, a note of hysteria inching its way into her voice. "Why are you stopping?!"

The code team ignores her, and the intern in charge says to the others, "Starting manual compressions..."

She's pumping on Emma's chest with her hands, eyes on the heart monitor, but nothing's changing.

"Emma, _please_," Mary Margaret's voice is thick with tears now.

"Get her out of here," the doctor murmurs distractedly, still pumping her hands against Emma's chest. A nurse approaches Mary Margaret and tries to gently steer her away, but she's unmovable. Ruby moves to the doorway, blocking the exit.

Then, the doctor stops pumping. She takes a small step back from the bed, her shoulders slumping in defeat and exhaustion.

"_No_," Mary Margaret stammers weakly. "No, you can't stop, why are you…"

"I'm sorry, Your Highness. But if we haven't been able to get her heart started by now, that means-"

A surge of strength knifes through her, and this time, there's no trace of weakness in her voice. "_NO_!" She takes three strides toward the doctor, practically snarling. "This is _not_ a normal case, and there is _no room_ for your typical procedures or even your normal medical knowledge. She is being kept alive by _magic, _so you have no idea what will work or how long it will take. Now _grab_ those paddles and _charge again!_"

~(OUAT)~

"What's _happening_?"

"I don't know…"

"What does this mean?!"

The boy sounds almost hysterical, and all David can say is, "Henry, I'm not sure…"

They're both quite for a long beat, the only sound Graham's strangled moans.

Then, his voice small and shaking, Henry asks, "Does this mean Emma's...dead?"

The word is a trigger, and David's eyes immediately fill with tears. He hesitates, wanting to lie, but then he remembers how mad Henry got when they came through the portal, when he lied about Emma's blood.

So David looks over his shoulder, and meets Henry's eye, his view of his grandson swimming behind the tears. "Maybe," he says tightly. "It might mean that, Henry, but we don't know that for sure...okay?"

~(OUAT)~

Graham's waiting to die.

He can vaguely hear the voices of David and Henry, but it's coming at him through a haze and he can't make out the words.

It won't end, this time. The pain. No more shocks, nothing else to stop it, to save Emma. And somehow he knows it, with complete and utter clarity. If Emma dies, he'll die. Simple as that.

Her heart kept him alive, when Regina crushed his first one. And then, apparently, he's been keeping her alive even after the curse broke.

Graham is pretty sure it works both ways. They can't survive without each other.

And if she's dead, he must be dying.

So he waits. The pain's getting worse. His vision is swallowed in white light, and Graham's last coherent thought is that he didn't read her letter.

The pain takes him over, in a way it never has before, eclipsing everything else, including Graham's ability to hear his own screams.

But then, suddenly, it happens.

The jolt of electricity to his heart.

It doesn't work immediately, though the fog that's swallowing him whole does start to slowly fade.

Then, there's another shock, and this time, he knows it works. The pain dissolves.

Graham's whole body goes limp, flat on the ground. As his vision clears, he can see David, sitting on the ground with his head in his hands, and hear Henry's quiet whimpering.

Swallowing a few times, his throat raw, Graham manages to say in a ragged voice, "She's okay."

David lifts his head slowly, eyes red and wary, like he doesn't dare believe it. "Wh…what?"

"It took awhile, but they…they shocked her again. And it worked." He struggles to sit up, meeting David's eyes, then Henry's. "I felt it."

"You sure?"

"Yes." And he is. Graham's face tightens, his voice catching, "I'd know if she was dead."

David wilts, like the fear literally drains out of him. He takes a long, shaky breath, then turns to Henry and gives the boy a clumsy smile. "She's okay, kid."

Henry swipes a sleeve across his eyes and leaps to his feet, looking around, panicked. Prince, upended from his lap, lets out a mew of protest, darting out of the way. "We…we gotta go back."

"Back where?"

"I, I dropped my letter. From Emma, I dropped it, I think we already passed where, I have to get it back, _I have to_."

Graham frowns, concerned and confused, but David's whole face softens, and he walks over to his grandson and bends down in front of him, gently grabbing Henry's arm to still the boy's frantic pacing.

With a small smile, David reaches into his backpack and pulls of the slightly crumpled letter. "I saved it for you."

Henry reaches out, taking the paper. For a second, he just stares at it, and in the next instant, his face crumples and he starts to cry. "I'm sorry," he sobs, and David immediately pulls him into a hug. "I'm sorry I got mad at her…I'm sorry…"

"Ssshhhh," David soothes him, gently rubbing the boy's trembling back. "It's okay, kid. She'll understand, you have a right to be mad, Emma knew that…it's gonna be okay, Henry…"

Graham sits a little apart from the two of them, watching, but giving them space. Then, slowly, he pulls out his own letter and unfolds it. He fishes out matches from one of the pouches on his belt, and lights it so he can read the words.

_Dear Graham,_

_A few hours ago, I saw you for the last time. For the last month, I've spent every second terrified that I'd never see you again, so you'd think I'd be prepared for this. I'm not. It hurts more than I ever imagined it could. I feel like I can't breathe, Graham._

_I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to fall in love (not just with you, but EVER) and even once I did, I never meant to need you this much. But I did, and I do, so here we are. You're gone, and I'm dying soon, and we'll never see each other again and I can't breathe. But you're safe, and that's the most important thing to me right now._

_I'm so sorry, Graham. I hate that I lied to you, and I'm sure eventually it's going to hit you how much and how horribly I lied, and you'll be angry at me. That's okay, you should be. But…I had to make sure you were safe. I knew you'd never go, and more than that you'd never let me do what I had to do, if I told you the truth. I know I lied about how the curse would break, but I meant this: I couldn't have done it if I knew she could hurt you. I'm going to let Regina kill me in less than two days because I can't put myself and my life above everyone else's. But I would have put yours above theirs. I'd have let Storybrooke stay cursed rather than put you in danger. And that's why I lied to you._

_There's a part of me that hopes you never have to read this letter. Gold says there's no way of predicting what will happen to your Storybrooke memories since you went back to your old land before the curse was broken, so maybe you've already forgotten being Graham, which means you've already forgotten me. I guess if you're reading this, it didn't happen, so there's no point in even mentioning it. But there's this part of me that hopes you do forget, because it means that what I'm doing won't hurt you. Henry, David, Mary Margaret…I can't help but hurt them. But if you forget me, then maybe you won't have to find out I died. It won't matter that I lied to you. You won't be hurt by any of it. And I never want to hurt you, Graham. _

_But then there's another part of me that can't stand the thought of you forgetting. Because I'll be dead, so I can't remember for both of us. I guess that's selfish. Or maybe it's not, because even right now, even as much as this hurts…I wouldn't trade it. I wouldn't trade __you__. _

_I never meant to fall in love, Graham. I figured that nothing lasts forever, especially not people, and loving someone just meant losing them in the end. And now I've proved myself right, and this hurts more than I can say, but it doesn't matter. I'd do it again Graham. In a second._

_I don't want to stop writing this, because then I know it'll really be over. But I don't know what else I can possibly say, other than that I am so in love with you, Graham, and I'm so glad I met you. And I'm sorry I didn't believe you about the curse, and I'm sorry I lied to you about how I'm going to break it. I'm sorry. I love you. And if you're reading this anyway, I guess it's okay to say: don't forget me. But please be happy, and be okay. Henry loves you, so I hope you'll still be there for him, be a part of his life. And David and Mary Margaret's, too, because you've always been my family, too._

_I love you,_

_Emma_

"Graham, are you ready to-" David stops talking abruptly as he turns around to look at Graham.

The other man is sitting, clutching Emma's letter, his face streaked with tears, chest rising and falling jerkily with choked sobs.

David touches the top of Henry's head lightly and says quietly, "Give him a second."

"No," Graham speaks up, his voice cracking. "No, we should go. We have to get back to her."

"Okay." David nods, relieved. He stands, and so does Graham. Henry picks up the cat. "We're getting close."

~(OUAT)~

The doctor can't hide her surprise when Emma's heart starts beating again, and she gives Mary Margaret a timid apology as she and the team roll the crash cart out of the room.

Mary Margaret just stares her down, gaze icy, but as they're gone, her face collapses, a delayed reaction of grief sweeping through her, and Mary Margaret sits down hard in her chair, hands over her face, silent tears streaming.

Ruby's arm goes around her immediately, and after a few minutes, she squeezes Mary Margaret's shoulder gently. "See? You saved her life. Again."

Lifting her head, Mary Margaret says shakily, "They were gonna let her…"

"I know. But she's alive. You saved her," Ruby says calmly. She looks at her watch. "And I'm sure they'll be back by morning. And then everything will be okay."

~(OUAT)~

Graham keeps the letter in his hand, though it's too dark to read it while he's walking. Still, he holds it for the next two, quiet hours as they walk, just keeping her words close.

After awhile, David stops walking, eyes bright and alert in the darkness. "Ssh…listen."

They all go still, but it only takes Graham a few seconds to realize what David means. "Water."

A smile breaks across David's face. "It's the river. The one that goes under Banshee bridge. That means we're close."

Henry shoots a wary look at Graham. "You still feel fine, right? That means Emma's still okay?"

"I think so." Graham says, touching his chest. It's the longest streak he's gone without collapsing.

Henry turns to look at his grandfather. "Then let's hurry."

~(OUAT)~

They're close. David can feel it. His heart is slamming in his chest, equal parts relief and fear. He's almost back to his daughter, and has every reason to believe she's still alive.

Yet there's still a chance they're wrong, that there's something he hasn't considered. That Graham's heart isn't the indicator they thougth it was.

So David focuses on the immediate present, finding the trail, calculating how close they are.

But then he sees her.

Regina. A hundred yards away from them. Holding a bow and arrow. Aimed at Graham.

That's all he has time to register before he acts, throwing himself in front of Graham and shoving the other man out of the way just as the arrow slices through his side.

"David!"

"Grandpa!"

Henry spins around, eyes huge, and Graham, startled, kneels beside David, immediately putting pressure on the wound.

David gasps for air, and it takes him a second to make his lungs work, but then he shoves Graham away, his eyes darting back in Regina's direction just as another arrow flies above them. "She's aiming at _you_, you have to run!" In a swift motion, David seizes Graham by his collar and pulls him to the ground beside him, out of the way of another arrow. "GO!"

Graham's face tightens as he seems to register what's happening, why Regina needs to kill him to kill Emma. Making a decision, Graham turns and looks at Henry, who's standing paralyzed with fear, his voice urgent and forceful, "Henry! Run to the portal, we'll be right behind you!"

"But-"

"_Go_!" Panicked, Henry turns on his heel and sprints away.

Graham turns back to David, muttering, "She won't hurt him if he's not near us," as he hauls David to his feet. Noticing David's hand close around the arrow sticking out of his side, Graham says, "Leave that in, it's stopping the bleeding…"

"Just _leave me_," David grits out. The sharp, metallic taste of blood is rising in the back of his throat. "Emma needs _you_ to-"

"Emma wouldn't want her father left to bleed out and die in the middle of the woods," Graham insists stubbornly. He's got David's arm draped around his shoulder, one hand holding his wrist, the other wrapped around the injured man's waist as he supports him.

Arrows are flying, but Regina's obviously having trouble with a faster moving target.

"Graham! Grandpa!" Henry's voice echoes from the distance, and Graham quickens his pace as an arrow slices through the air in front of him, hoping that Henry's reached the portal already, that means they're close, if they can just get there…

David's starting to feel weak and dizzy, black bleeding into the edges of his vision, and Graham's half-dragging, half-carrying him at this point. Out of the corner of his eye, David sees Regina changes tactics. She stops shooting and starts to run toward them. Once she's closer, hitting Graham will be no problem.

David barely has to think about it. In a quick motion, summoning all his remaining strength, he yanks the arrow out of his side, crying out as it slices through his organs, and wrenches away from Graham, collapsing onto the ground.

Graham pulls up short, startled by the sudden lack of weight at his side, and he swivels around; David's lying on the ground, the blood gushing faster now, his face ashen, eyes glassy.

"_David_!" He reaches for him again.

"_Go_…" David grits out. He coughs, and blood splatters on his chin. "Go _now_, you have to save her, _please_." He pauses, drawing a ragged breath, and meets Graham's eyes. "I told you I'd die for my daughter."

Graham squeezes his eyes shut, fighting with himself. When he opens his eyes again, his face is etched with sorrow. "I'm so, _so_ sorry…"

"Tell them I love them and I'm sorry," David says faintly. "Now _go_."

Graham catches a glimpse of Regina, gaining on them, and he quickly turns and sprints after Henry.

Able to go full speed, he leaves her behind instantly, and can only hear the faint woosh of a few arrows that don't even come close.

Henry's standing by the portal, clutching the cat against his chest, when Graham, barely slowing his stride, runs up to him and quickly ushers the boy through the portal.

Only when they've come out the other side, stumbling on the concrete and into the place where Graham was once held captive, does Henry lift his eyes to Graham and ask quietly, "Where's…where's my grandpa?"

Graham's chest is heaving, his muscles burning, and a crooked sound lifts itself from his throat. "I…I couldn't…he didn't want to me to…." His voice cracking, Graham can only shake his head. "I'm sorry."

Henry's face collapses.

Graham's chest feels small and tight. How is he supposed to tell Mary Margaret that he couldn't save her husband? Tell Emma that he left her father behind, when she'd just gotten him back?

"C'mon," Graham says numbly, squeezing Henry's shoulder. "We gotta go, your…Regina could be following us. We gotta go to Emma."


	22. They'll Never Know

Chapter Twenty Two

_Don't you cry tonight__  
><em>_Rest your weary eyes__  
><em>_Cuz all that you are__  
><em>_Is broken inside__  
><em>_It's nothing you could change__  
><em>_It's nothing you could hide__  
><em>_It's nothing you could hide_

_Pink flowers and bows__  
><em>_That's all you should know__  
><em>_And summer days_

_Cuz all that you are__  
><em>_Is beautiful child__  
><em>_But they'll never know__  
><em>_They'll never know_

They get to the parking lot of the cemetery only to realize they don't have the keys to David's truck. Luckily, many people fleeing back to the Enchanted Forest had simply left their cars, keys and all, open in the parking spaces.

Henry and Graham don't talk the whole ride to the hospital. Henry leans his forehead against the window, slumped over with exhaustion and grief. Graham's fingers are tight on the steering wheel, and he's sick with guilt and dread.

The sun's beginning to rise when they pull into the visitor's parking lot and stop the car. Henry doesn't lift his head from the window, and for a second Graham wonders if the boy's fallen to sleep: a full day and night of walking surely took a toll.

But when Graham softly says, "Henry?", the boy looks up right away, his eyes red and glassy but definitely awake. "Ready to go in?"

Henry blinks a few times, before saying in a slow, sluggish voice, "What are you going to tell them?"

Graham rakes trembling hands through his hair, exhaling long and slow. "I don't, uh…I guess I have to just…tell them what happened." He looks over and meets Henry's eyes. "Henry. David's a hero. And he saved Emma's life, because he's a father who would do anything for his daughter. But I am _so_ sorry I couldn't save him."

Henry's eyes slide downward, and he stares at his own fingers, twisting in his lap. "Grandma's gonna be really, really sad, though. And Emma…she just found out he's her dad, it isn't fair that he's already gone."

"I know."

His face folds and twists slowly, and when Henry speaks again his voice is small and pinched. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were _all_ supposed to be a family." Henry swipes the back of his hand across his cheek. "But now David's dead and Emma's maybe still gonna die-"

"Hey…" Graham rests a hand on the top of Henry's head, making the boy look at him. "Emma's gonna be fine." He puts his free hand against his own chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. "We're gonna walk into that hospital right now and wake her up. Just like before, remember?"

Henry nods, and Graham squeezes his shoulder before undoing his seatbelt and getting out of the car, as Henry does the same.

~(OUAT)~

They pass a nurse in the corridor, and without even having to ask she gives them Emma's room number.

"Graham…" Mary Margaret's voice is pure relief when she sees him, and that should make him feel horrible because he's about to break her heart, but for a second, all thoughts of anything else, even David, leave him. All Graham can see is Emma.

Henry follows him into the hospital room, brushing past Graham and going straight to Emma's bed. He walks to the opposite side of the bed from Ruby and Mary Margaret, just as his grandmother gets up from her chair and hurries to hug Graham. "Thank God you're back…she hasn't flat lined in a couple hours, we hoped that meant you were close…"

Even over her shoulder, Graham's eyes are fixated on Emma, once again lying lifeless and small in a hospital bed. He wants to go to her so badly he can't breathe, wants to kiss her and watch her eyes open. And then he wants to ask her how the hell she could ever think it was okay for her to die.

But then Mary Margaret lets him go and glances expectantly over his shoulder. "Where's David?"

Graham pulls his gaze from Emma, but he can only hold Mary Margaret's eyes for a few painful seconds before he lowers his head, throat tightening around the words.

It's like the air gets sucked out of the room; in the beat after asking what she'd thought was an innocuous question, Mary Margaret realizes there isn't an easy answer. "W_here's_ _David_?" There's a shaking, panicky note in her voice now.

Henry pillows his arms against the hospital bed and drops his head against them, his forehead resting against Emma's arm. Ruby gets up from her hospital chair and comes to stand behind her best friend, resting a hand on her back and giving Graham a searching look, dread etched in her face.

"Graham…" Mary Margaret's forces out tightly. "_Where_ is my husband?"

"I'm sorry," he finally manages, no strength behind the words. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't…" His voice is unraveling.

"No." Mary Margaret's shaking her head, and once she starts she can't stop. She takes a physical step away from Graham, nearly colliding with Ruby. "No," she says again, simple and plaintive.

"We were almost back to the portal," Graham begins in a dull, hollow voice. "And suddenly Regina was there. She had a bow, and she was shooting at me…someone must've told her killing me would kill Emma. David…he jumped in front of me."

Mary Margaret's face is frozen, her eyes huge, looking like the ground was just ripped out from under her. After twenty-four hours of being terrified for her daughter's life…she is completely unprepared for her husband to be the one who's gone.

"I tried to carry him the rest of the way to the portal," Graham continues, a plea in his voice now. "I tried, but Regina was coming, so David, he…he shoved me off him and pulled the arrow out, and he made me keep going…" Graham's face tightens, and he swallows hard against the lump in his throat. "Mary Margaret, I…I never would have left him to just save myself, I swear…"

"Of course not," Mary Margaret replies in a quiet, dazed voice. "You had to save Emma, David had to…save Emma, of course he…" Her voice fades, and she turns around to look at her unconscious daughter like Emma's the only thing keeping her from falling apart. "You should wake her up Graham, go ahead and wake her up, please, please wake her…"

But Graham even doesn't move as Mary Margaret steps out of his way, walking numbly to the far end of the room, her back to all of them. Even Henry looks up, and he and Graham and Ruby stare helplessly at Mary Margaret.

The rhythmic beeping of Emma's heart monitor is the only sound in the room besides Mary Margaret's slow, deliberate breaths. In and out. Inhale. Exhale.

Then suddenly, instead of the even breathing, Mary Margaret lets out a crooked, wailing sound. It's like something in her chest cracks open, and she sags against the wall of the hospital room, her whole body suddenly wracked with sobs.

Ruby goes behind Mary Margaret, wrapping her arms around her best friend and resting her chin on her shoulder. Henry presses his face against Emma's arm again, this time folding his arms along the side of his head, blocking the sound of his grandmother crying.

Graham just stands there, every second torturous. After a few moments, he walks to the side of the bed with Mary Margaret and Ruby's vacated chairs. He sits in the one closest to Emma, and leans forward to rest his forehead against her temple.

He can't wake her up now, not with the sound of her mother's grief filling the room. Graham takes her hand, wanting comfort from the fact that she's alive, but all he can think of is that he's going to have to break her heart the way he's just broken her mom's.

It takes him a minute to pick up a pattern in Mary Margaret's cries. Beneath choking, hard sobs, she's repeating his nickname, "Charming…" over and over. He sees Henry's arms squeeze tighter over his ears, and Graham wishes he could copy the gesture.

Five long minutes pass, before Mary Margaret abruptly straightens up, wiping the heels of her hands across her cheeks. "Emma."

Her daughter's name is like a magic word, like the last unbroken thing inside of her. Mary Margaret walks purposefully to Emma's bedside. Henry's in the only chair on his side, so Mary Margaret kneels down beside him and brushes back the hair on Emma's forehead, seeming oblivious to the tears still rolling down her cheeks. She rests her other hand on top of Henry's head, and he tentatively lifts his face to look at her.

Mary Margaret's throat works furiously for a few moments, but finally she gets the words out, her voice wrecked, "Graham?"

He meets her eyes across Emma's prostrate form. "Yeah?"

"I've watched my daughter's heart stop over twenty times since yesterday." Her voice catches, but she sets her jaw determinedly. "_Please_ wake her up."

Tight throated, he nods, then leans over, thumb gently tracing the curve of Emma's cheekbone before he gently encases her lips in his.

Graham leans back, looking at her expectantly.

Her eyes don't open.

"Em?" It slips out, a tight, panicked syllable. "Emma?"

Graham kisses her again, desperate. Still nothing.

Graham meets Mary Margaret's eyes across the bed. The muscles in her face are contracting and smoothing in quick succession, and Graham can almost _see_ something crumbling behind her eyes. Her last thread of control is breaking.

"Hey…" Ruby comes to stand at the foot of the bed, her voice resolutely calming. "Remember what Gold said, it's about Graham's heart, and how close it was to Emma's. The kiss may not be what works."

"But I'm here," Graham insists, his voice cracking. "So she should…she should be awake."

"Her heart hasn't flatlined in a few hours," Ruby reminds them gently. "She's already getting better, it just may…take a little more time for her heart to get stronger." She meets Graham's eyes. "You just stay close."

Graham nods, reclaiming Emma's hand in his own; he can feel Henry watching him, so he tries to keep his expression hopeful, but the truth is he's terrified.

Mary Margaret squeezes her eyes shut for a long beat, then opens them to look at Graham. "Charming, was he already…" Her voice falters, and she looks away before continuing, "Was he…gone when you left him?"

She doesn't mean anything accusatory by it, but Graham still winces at her phrasing. "No, he wasn't. But…he was losing a lot of blood, he…he pulled the arrow out." His eyes flit to Henry; the boy's listening intently, and Graham wishes he would cover his ears again. "Without help he…he didn't have long, and Regina was the only one…"

Mary Margaret covers her face in her hands, and for a few long, tense moments, everyone's silent. Once again, Ruby breaks it, her voice determined. "I'll go back." Mary Margaret lifts her head to look at her best friend, expression questioning. Ruby meets her eyes. "You should be with Emma. I'll go through the portal, see if…see if there's any chance."

"Red…if she hurts you-"

Ruby shakes her head dismissively. "She has no reason to hurt me." No one bothers to point out the flaw in this logic; they nod along with Ruby, pretending that Regina needs a reason to kill. Then, she adds, more practically, "It won't take long. And she won't be expecting anyone, I doubt she's still n that exact spot."

Mind made up, Ruby looks at Graham, expression businesslike. "Where was he?"

"Less than a quarter mile from the portal," Graham tells her automatically. "I think…northwest, a few hundred yards parallel from the river-"

"I can track him," she cuts him off crisply, then returns her attention to Mary Margaret, walking over to her and hugging her tightly. "I'll be right back."

"Thank you," Mary Margaret whispers into her ear.

Ruby nods, forcing a shaky smile before striding out of the hospital room, every step purposeful.

Mary Margaret exhales shakily, and puts an arm around Henry. He leans against her, grateful that at least something's being done. "Do you think maybe she'll find Grandpa? That he could still be alive?"

Before she can stop herself, Mary Margaret looks at Graham, a question in her eyes, a dormant spark of hope lighting in her chest.

But Graham's whole face darkens, his eyes full of sorrow and apology. He thinks of how much blood was seeping onto David's shirt, even before he jerked the arrow out. He's calculating how long David's been lying there, bleeding and helpless.

Mary Margaret sees the answer in his face, and she presses her lips against the crown of Henry's head until she can answer him in a steady voice, "I don't…I don't think we should get our hopes up, honey."

~(OUAT)~

Ruby's back in two hours. She opens the door to Emma's hospital room and seems a little taken aback that their positions are exactly the same. "No change?" she asks, eyes falling on Emma.

Mary Margaret's trying to read Ruby's expression, and she barely hears the question. With difficulty, Graham lifts dull, frightened eyes from Emma to answer, "No…an intern came in and said her stats are up, and they took the tube out of her throat so I guess she can, uh, breathe on her own but she still…she still hasn't woken up."

"Red." Mary Margaret's voice is tiny. She looks at her best friend, pleading. "Was he…?"

Ruby's eyes fill with tears. "I'm sorry," she whispers, a catch in her voice. "I'm so sorry, Snow, I…I found where it happened. I could see the blood…" She stops abruptly, looking at Henry.

Graham swallows, and opens his mouth to suggest that Henry go get something from the vending machines so he doesn't have to hear this. But as he glances at the boy, he sees Henry reach out and slide his fingers securely through his grandmother's. The boy's lips are pressed tightly together and his eyes are huge, but there's a resolute braveness in his expression. Graham looks back at Ruby and gives her a slight nod to go on.

"There was a lot of blood in one spot…a _lot_." Ruby continues, the words coming out in halting phrases. "And then…there was a trail of it, all streaked, like…" She can't bring herself to look at Mary Margaret when she says it. "Like he'd been dragged." Ruby opens her eyes again, and she finishes in a rush, "And then the trail just ends I'm so sorry."

"I, uh…" Mary Margaret is shaking her head slowly. "But that's…that's good, isn't it? If he was still lying there, that'd be bad but maybe…maybe he's okay, maybe he…crawled away?" There's no strength behind her voice.

Ruby and Graham look at each other, neither wanting to be the one to reply. Finally, Ruby does, her voice as gentle as she can make it. "It was…really close to the portal, Snow. And the trail it…it moved away from it." She swallows, glancing at Henry again. "And it didn't look like the blood had been dripping, it was…streaked."

Tears run unchecked down Mary Margaret's cheeks, and the look on her face triggers Ruby's tears, too. She can't go on, so Graham finishes, his tone soft and sympathetic, "There are other people, now, in the Forest, that came through the portal…Regina probably didn't want them to know there was reason to be scared, she…she had to move the body."

For a long moment, Mary Margaret says nothing. She's holding Henry's hand in a white knuckled grip, her face soaked with tears. When she finally speaks, her voice is thick and shaking, "He's really gone, isn't he?"

"I'm so sorry," Graham tells her. Henry loops his arms around Mary Margaret's waist, hugging her without getting up from his chair. Ruby comes over and hugs her, too, and Graham lets his forehead drop against Emma's shoulder.

They stay like that for a long time; Mary Margaret cries are soft now, and they go on for a long time. Then, as though making a decision, she straightens up, setting her jaw and gently disentangling herself from Henry and Ruby's arms. She wipes her eyes. "How are we going to tell Emma?"

Graham lets out a strangled, incoherent sound; it's that question that's been gnawing at him for hours, the one thing that pulls him up short every time he gets desperately hopeful that he feels movement, or thinks he sees her eyelids flutter.

An hour passes with no change. Ruby leaves after forty minutes, to update Granny and bring them all back some food. Twenty silent minutes after her departure, Mary Margaret stands abruptly, her face twisting as she barely manages to murmur something about needing some air.

Fifteen minutes after that, Henry wrenches his eyes away from his mother to look up. "Graham?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Is it bad that she hasn't woken up yet?"

Graham swallows hard, fumbling for reassuring words. His terror that she won't wake up, that he's lost her, is so sharp he can taste it, bitter and stinging in the back of his throat. But the small part of his brain that can still function on logic knows that there's no reason to think that, not when Emma's only improved since they got here.

So he answers as steadily as he can manage, "Remember how many times the doctors had to get her heart started? That just takes a lot out of the body…so it still needs some rest. But she's getting better, see? A few hours ago she couldn't even breathe by herself." He smiles, clumsy and weak. "Shouldn't be much longer."

"Okay." Henry rubs his eyes with his knuckles, a gesture that makes him seem even younger than he is. Graham scrutinizes the boy, noting for the first time the heaviness of his eyelids, the deep rooted exhaustion in his face, and he remembers how long Henry's been awake, not to mention how much walking he's done in the past twenty four hours. "Henry, if you wanted to lay down and get some sleep…I promise I'll wake you up as soon as Emma is."

He shakes his head immediately. "No, I'm alright. But…I might go check on my grandma, if that's okay."

Graham starts to protest, suggest that they give Mary Margaret some time alone, but he remembers the look on Henry's face when Ruby gave the report on David's body, the way the boy had reached for his grandmother's hand. So Graham just nods. "Sure. But stay on this floor, alright? And if you don't find her in a few minutes, come straight back here."

"I will." Henry scrambles off his chair, hesitating slightly when he looks back at Emma. He rests a hand on her shoulder, and leans forward like he's telling her a secret. "I won't be gone long, Mom." His eyes skirt to Graham's, almost embarrassed, but Graham just gives him a reassuring nod before Henry turns around and leaves the room.

Graham leans forward again, his chin propped on clenched fists resting on Emma's mattress. He raises his eyes to look at Emma's heart monitor; he wonders if it's his imagination that his pulse is jumping in perfect time to the beeps.

"C'mon Em…"

He doesn't know how magic and medicine coexist; trying to understand any of this just makes his head ache, but it definitely can't hurt to try again, so Graham leans forward and kisses Emma, hoping against hope that maybe it'll be enough this time.

~(OUAT)~

It doesn't take Henry long to find her, because this time he knows where to look.

He remembers the first time Emma was in the hospital, when he'd found Graham crying in the stairwell, so he goes there first, and right away he hears long, low sobs, the kind of crying that makes his stomach tighten, echoing from above him.

He hurries up the stairs, making his footsteps loud so he doesn't scare her. The cries halt quickly, and when he reaches her, Mary Margaret's got the back of her hand pressed over her lips. "Henry…" Her voice is scratchy and nearly unrecognizable. "Is Emma…?"

Henry shakes his head. "Not yet." He sits down beside her on the stairs, his shoulder pressed against her arm.

Mary Margaret swipes the sleeve of her sweater across her face and wraps an arm around her grandson's shoulders.

He looks up at her. "Are you okay?"

"I will be," she tells him softly, trying and failing to smile. "Once your mom wakes up…I'll get there."

Henry leans against her quietly for a moment, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Finally, nervously, he asks, "Grandma?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Are you mad at her?"

Mary Margaret frowns slightly, confused. "Mad at who?"

"Emma," his voice is small, almost embarrassed.

Leaning back slightly so she can look at him, Mary Margaret asks, "Mad at her for what, sweetheart?"

Henry's eyes slide to the ground. "Well…she was going to die. On purpose. And she lied to us about it. And now…that's why Grandpa got killed. He wouldn't have had to save her if she hadn't tried to die. So that's kind of because of her, too."

Mary Margaret's quiet for a long moment, choosing her words carefully. Finally, she lifts her hand and begins to absently stroking Henry's hair, the gesture softening her next words, "First of all…I need you to promise me something, okay? You can never say anything like to Emma. What happened to your gradnpa _isn't_ her fault. And no matter how angry you get at Emma, you can never say that to her. Do you promise?"

Slowly, Henry nods, his eyebrows still knit in confusion.

"Good." Mary Margaret manages to give him about an eighth of a smile before continuing. "Do you know why David…" Her voice falters, and it takes her a moment to say the words. "Do you know why David is dead?"

"Because he had to save Emma's life."

"Yes. Because he's her father, and that means he loves her more than anything else in this world." She blinks out a few tears. "Your grandpa was a hero. Everything he did, he did it to help others. To do what was good. And you know what, he probably would have jumped in front of that arrow to save Graham even if it hadn't meant saving Emma, too. But he did more than that. He made Graham leave him behind. He pulled the arrow out of his side, knowing it would make him bleed out faster, just to make sure Graham had no choice but to get back to Emma."

Mary Margaret touches Henry's face gently, making him look at her. "The way a parent loves their child…it's the strongest love in the whole world. And it means they'd do _anything_ to keep their child safe, even if that means dying." She draws a long, shaky breath. "That's what Charming did for Emma. And It's what Emma was prepared to do for you."

They're both crying now, and it's a moment before Mary Margaret can continue, "Henry you can be mad at her for lying to you if you want. You have every right to be, and I think Emma expected that. But you have to know…she did this for you. She wanted to be a hero for you, but more than that she wanted to make sure you were always safe."

Crying harder now, Henry puts his head on her lap for a few moments, feeling her fingers gently stroke his hair, the same way Emma did two nights ago in his bedroom.

Finally, he sits up, and Mary Margaret gently thumbs away the stray tears on his cheeks. "Can we go check on Emma now?"

"Of course."

~(OUAT)~

He kisses her longer this time, afraid of the moment he has to sit up and shatter his hopes once again. But finally Graham has to sit up, staring at Emma's face, already preparing himself for disappointment.

For a second, nothing.

Then her eyes open.

Graham lets out a stuttered, choked sound of relief. Emma's eyes land on his, and for a second they light up with such profound joy his heart feels like it may burst.

In the next instant though, the happiness leeches from her eyes and they widen, horrorstruck.

"No, no, no…" she mumbles hoarsely, eyes darting the room as she tries to sit up. "No, the curse, it was supposed to break, I had to-"

"Em," He puts his hand on her arms, firmly but gently keeping her lying down, and raises his voice above her frantic protests. "Em, it's okay. The curse is broken, you did it."

"But…" Her eyes stop their darting and focus on his, confusion on her face. "But Gold said I had to die."

Hearing her say it, so matter-of-factly, crashes against Graham, and for the first time it feels like it's really hitting him, what Emma had tried to do, what had come so close to happening, and warm tears rush to his eyes. "You did," he tells her, his voice teetering on the edge of breaking. "Your heart stopped. A bunch of times actually, but the first time it did, the curse broke."

Emma's eyes narrow as she processes this. "That…that worked?"

Graham hesitates, not sure how much information to throw at her right now; but she's going to need to know, and it'll be easier to explain now than when he has to tell her about David. "Gold says it shouldn't have. He says you shouldn't have been able to survive without the curse, but…he said I shouldn't have been able to survive after Regina crushed my heart, but you made me. And somehow…that meant that you could still stay alive, if I was."

Emma's quiet for a moment, her face drawn and overwhelmed by this. Suddenly, though, her eyes widen in realization, and she reaches out and grips Graham's collar, her tone practically melting with relief, "You remember me!"

His whole face softens into an expression of impossible tenderness, and he reaches up to thread his fingers through her hair. "I could never forget you."

Her face crumples slowly, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Graham, I didn't want to lie to you, but I _had_ to, I had to know you were safe…"

"Ssshhh…" He wraps his arms around her, and she buries her face in his shoulder. Graham's throat narrows and he closes his eyes against the persistent tears. "It's okay. Everything's okay now." He holds for a long moment before saying softly, "Just never, ever do that again. You're done being shot, okay? I'm forbidding it."

She lets out a choked laugh, then pulls back to look at him, reaching out and cupping his cheek like he's something impossibly precious. "I thought I'd never see you again."

Graham's body sags, weariness and relief washing over him, and he leans his forehead against hers. He can't speak right away. It's as though he'd only let himself a fraction of the terror he should have last night, pushing most of it behind determination and purpose. But the terror's still there, even though she's alive and awake and touching him, and at some point Graham will have to feel all of it.

Now, though, he only lets a little bit in, and after a moment he whispers, "I love you."

"I love you, too." She kisses him, fierce and needy, and after a few moments pulls back to bury her face in his neck again.

Abruptly, though, Emma sits up. "Where's Henry? And Mary Margaret and David?"

The smile on his face freezes and wilts. Words tangle up in his throat, but he can't bring himself to say it. "I can…I can go track them down."

But with impeccable timing, the hospital door opens, and Mary Margaret and Henry enter.

"_Emma_!" Mary Margaret's crying almost immediately, but a smile splits her face as she runs toward the bed. Graham stands quickly, giving Mary Margaret room to sit on the edge of the mattress and hug her daughter.

Emma hugs back, just as tight, and Mary Margaret rocks her slowly, back and forth like she's still a little kid, saying nothing.

But after a moment of this, Emma starts, "I'm sorry-"

"Emma."

"I'm so sorry-"

"Sweetheart."

"I didn't want to hurt you-"

Mary Margaret pulls back, and reaches up to cradle Emma's face in hands. It's such a searing, loving moment that Graham looks away, feeling oddly like an intruder.

"Emma," Mary Margaret says simply. "I love you, and I am so, so proud of you."

Emma's lips tremble as she smiles, and she looks ready to pull Mary Margaret into another hug when her eyes land on Henry, who hangs back behind Graham, almost nervously.

"_Henry_." She makes his name sound like so many things: a song, a prayer, the most important thing Emma's ever said in her life.

He moves toward her slowly; Mary Margaret gets up off the bed, leaving Henry space, but he doesn't climb up. Instead, he goes to stand beside Emma, something frightened and uncertain in his eyes when he looks at her.

"Hey kid…" Emma reaches out, cupping his cheek in her hand, her voice already thick with tears. "I know you're probably really mad at me right now. But it's really, _really_ good to see you."

Henry ducks his head, staring down at the floor for a long moment before he jerks his head up, eyes glittering with tears. "I'm not mad, Mom," Henry says softly. He reaches up and covers Emma's hand with his own. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Emma moves her hand off his cheek, turning it and threading their fingers together. "I don't want to lie to you. Not ever again, okay?" Henry nods, his lips curling together. Emma slides over in the bed a little, sitting up and lifting her arm. "C'mere…"

He crawls up on the bed, his knees on the mattress, and Emma wraps her arms around her son. Henry buries his face in her neck, and Emma's lips brush Henry's temple, and she leans close to the boy's ear, murmuring, "I'm so sorry, Henry, I love you, I'm sorry…"

He just tightens his grip on her in answer, and for a moment they held on silently, until Emma opens her eyes again and, over Henry's shoulder, gave Mary Margaret a questioning look. "Where's David?"

She asks it in the same tone Mary Margaret used earlier: innocuous and casual, like the only sort of answers she's expecting are that he's in the cafeteria, or making a phone call. There's no fear behind it, or even confusion.

But asking the question changes everything. There's no way to put the moment off, and almost immediately Emma can sense something's wrong.

"Where is he?" The pitch of her voice shoots up on the final syllable. Henry shrugs out of her embrace and sits back down in his chair, his eyes darting to the ground. Emma turns wild eyes on Mary Margaret, as Graham comes forward and sits on the edge of the hospital bed, the side opposite Henry. "Mary Margaret, where's David?"

Mary Margaret opens her mouth to speak, but immediately closes it against rising sobs. She turns away as still more tears descend down her cheeks, one hand clamped over her lips to stay silent, as if that can protect Emma from the truth.

"Where is he?!" Emma demands to no one in particular. She's panicking now, her breaths shallow, eyes going unfocused. "Henry?" The boy drops his forehead onto the bed, once again lifting his arms, ready to cover his ears the second he needs to.

"Graham." Emma turns to him, a plea in her eyes. "Graham, where is he?"

His stomach tightens, and it hurts to look at Emma, but he holds her eyes, reaching out and holding her arms in a gentle grip. "Emma-"

"_Where's_ David?!"

"Em."

"Where is he, Graham, _where_ is my dad?" Emma's voice breaks into pieces at the final word, and Mary Margaret lets out a loud, muffled sob.

Each word rips him to shreds, hurting him as much as he knows he's hurting her. "Regina shot him."

"No, no, no she didn't," Emma shakes her head hard. "No, Graham, _no_, I only…" Her voice falters, and she sounds like a little girl when she protests weakly, "I only put one bullet in the gun, she…she couldn't have." There's something desperate in her face, like what he's saying will be less true if she can just find flaw in the logic.

"It wasn't a gun, Em," he tells her softly. Every syllable is an apology, a wish that he didn't have to hurt her. "David and Henry, they had to come get me…they came through a portal. Regina must've have found out, and she…she knew that I was the one keeping you alive, so…she got a bow and arrow, and she shot at me. I didn't…" His voice wavers, and Graham swallows hard. "I didn't even see her, and David got in front of me and…"

The muscles in Emma's face tighten, something almost like anger flashing in her eyes, like she's still scrambling for a way to reject this outright but can't find it. Finally, though, she asks, "So is he…is he here, in the hospital?"

Tears sting Graham's eyes, and he slips his hand into hers. He'd give anything to protect her from this. "No, Em. He isn't."

She stares at him for a second, waiting for a follow up. _No, Em. He isn't. Because he's resting at home._ or even _No, Em. He isn't. We had to send him to a bigger hospital outside of Storybrooke._

But nothing comes. And Emma knows.

Her mouth falls open and she exhales, sharp and shaky, several times in a row, not getting any air in. Henry lifts his head cautiously, unable to look away. Graham weaves his fingers through her hair, the rest of the story getting tangled in his throat. She doesn't need to know it all right now, about how David hadn't let Graham help him, the way he'd pulled the arrow out of his own body to bleed out faster.

Mary Margaret finally turns around, her face once again tear streaked, and steps up to Emma's bed, beside Henry. But before she can speak, Emma swings around to look at her, face slowly crumpling, "I'm sorry…."

"Oh, sweetheart, it isn't your fault-" Mary Margaret touches Emma's shoulder, but Emma immediately shrugs away from the touch, looking away, unable to accept comfort.

"Em…" Graham starts to put his arm around her, but Emma leans back from him, shrinking away from all of them in the hospital bed. She looks like she wants nothing more than to be able to bolt from the room.

Emma feels hot, stinging tears pricking at her eyes, but she squeezes her eyelids against them. It's convenient, because it helps her pretend they aren't all there, Graham and Mary Margaret and Henry, looking at her with sympathy. As if she deserves sympathy.

David is dead he's dead her father is _gone_ and it is because of her. Graham, he could have died too, and that would have been all her fault, too.

She is suddenly sure if she has to open her eyes and look at Mary Margaret she's going to be sick.

"Emma, sweetheart, look at me…"

"Mom, are you okay?"

"I'm so sorry, Em."

Their voices are coming through a fog, and Emma doesn't want to hear it. She hadn't thought she'd be waking up ever again, but all the unexpected joy at her second chance, at seeing Graham and Henry and Mary Margaret…it's all gone now.

She is supposed to be dead, and she even managed to fuck that up. David is dead and she wishes it were her.

The tears are still threatening, but she doesn't let them out. She doesn't deserve to cry or grieve; she shoves that away underneath the overwhelming guilt, the crushing knowledge that this is her fault.

She finds herself remembering the morning Graham disappeared, David's arms around her in the floor of the sheriff station, him holding her together when everything was breaking. Ironically, that's what she needs now, needs it so much it aches, but he isn't there anymore. David's gone, and he'll never hug her again, never say her name in that awed, reverent way that makes her feel like the most important person in the world.

Her brain runs away with this line of thinking. He'll never walk her down the aisle, never dance at her wedding. All these stupid Dad fantasies she hasn't thought of in almost two decades, the clichés she never let herself want.

But those clichés had flickered briefly and tantalizingly into view, but now they're gone because he's dead and it's her fault her fault her fault.

"Emma. Honey, say something."

"She's in shock."

"Mom? What's wrong with her?"

Something's beeping, faster and persistent than before.

"What's happening?!"

"It's too much stress-"

"Get a nurse!"

"Emma!"

"Mom?!"

"Em, stay with me, c'mon…"

Eventually someone sticks a needle in her arm, and everyone in the room fades even further away.

~(OUAT)~

"She won't even look at me," Mary Margaret says, tearful and distressed. She turns her gaze toward the window of Emma's hospital room, eyeing Emma through the blinds. Emma's sitting up, talking to Henry, who's perched on the foot of the bed.

Ruby touches Mary Margaret's arm sympathetically, and Graham follows her gaze to look at Emma.

Emma's only been awake from the sedation for a few hours. They haven't pushed her. They're not talking about David, or anything else about Emma nearly dying, the letters she'd left, or the fact that Regina is still somewhere, after them.

And it's true: she's barely been able to look at Mary Margaret for longer than half a second. Emma visibly suppresses a wince anytime her mother says a kind word to her.

"She's blaming herself," Graham says lamely, the simplest and most obvious explanation.

He doesn't elaborate, but Graham's pretty sure he knows what Emma's thinking. It breaks his heart, knowing, so he won't do that to Mary Margaret.

But Graham sees it behind the dulled light in her eyes; not only does Emma blame herself, she's waiting for her mother to blame her, too. And it's just a guess, but he's also pretty sure that Emma thinks it would have been better for her family, especially Mary Margaret, if she'd died instead. Like she'd planned.

Mary Margaret closes her eyes and presses her index finger against them, massaging her eyelids. "I don't want that, I can't stand the thought of her blaming…" Mary Margaret sighs shakily. "I should talk to her."

Graham hesitates, then says, almost apologetically, "Maybe we should hold off on that, until tomorrow." Mary Margaret looks at him, questioningly. "She hasn't…cried, she's barely even talked since we told her." Graham closes his eyes, adding tightly, "Em didn't even think she was going to be waking up at all, and now all this. I don't want to push her."

To his relief, Mary Margaret nods, sighing. "You're probably right."

"You could go home for the night, if you want," Graham says tentatively. "You've been here for two days, and you…you deserve some time away from the hospital…" He trails off awkwardly, not wanting to say what he means: _time to grieve for your husband._ "And Henry, he's been awake for 36 hours. I don't see how that kid's still awake."

There's something desperate in his gaze, and Mary Margaret scrutinizes his expression, visibly stopping herself from instinctively protesting.

He knows he's asking a lot, asking her mom to go after she's spent two days watching her daughter's heart stop over and over. But he can practically feel the raw pain radiating off Emma in waves, and he can see her fighting it, thinking she doesn't deserve to let the grief in, especially when Mary Margaret's in the room.

Mercifully, Mary Margaret seems to understand, or maybe she just sees the truth of his suggestion. "Okay," she murmurs. "Alright, I'll take Henry home. We should get some sleep."

Ruby shoots Graham a grateful look before putting a hand on Mary Margaret's back. "Do you want me to stay over?"

Mary Margaret meets her eyes, nodding, her lips silently forming the word _please_.

"Okay." Ruby squeezes her shoulder. "I'll wait out here."

~(OUAT)~

Henry looks up, relieved, when Graham and Mary Margaret come back in the hospital room. Mary Margaret had told him not to talk about anything too serious with Emma, but she looks so sad that it didn't feel right rambling on about something stupid.

"Emma, I'm gonna take Henry home to get some sleep," Mary Margaret tells her, coming over to touch her daughter's shoulder lightly; Emma visibly stiffens under her touch, and hurt flashes in Mary Margaret's eyes.

"I'm not tired," Henry insists stubbornly.

"You haven't slept in almost two days," she admonishes, trying to make her tone casual. "And Emma needs rest, too."

Henry looks at his mother, reluctant. Emma reads the fear in his eyes, and she finds her voice again. "I'll be fine, kid," she tells him gently. "I'll see you in the morning."

In the next second his arms around her, and Emma hugs him back hard, her face registering more emotion than she's allowed herself since she woke up from sedation. "I love you, Henry," she says softly. "I'm so sorry."

He pulls back to look at her, hesitating before saying sincerely, "You don't have to keep saying that."

Emma's face tightens, eyes filling up with tears. "Yeah, I do."

Henry gets up and Mary Margaret comes to sit in front of her daughter. Emma tenses immediately, closing her eyes until the threat of tears is gone.

"Emma," Mary Margaret's voice is firm, but she can't keep the thread of pleading out of her tone. "Honey. I love you so much, and I'm _so_ glad you're alright. _Please_ believe that."

But Emma can't even hold her gaze; her eyes drops into her lap, and she absently twists a loose thread from the sheets around her finger. She manages a vague sort of nod, only to end the exchange, and Mary Margaret's face collapses as she turns quickly away.

Graham touches her arm, trying to give her a reassuring look. "It'll be okay," he murmurs quietly.

Mary Margaret tries to smile, but fails spectacularly, and her voice is tight when she says, "Ready, Henry?"

"Yeah." He follows her toward the door, looking at Emma over his shoulder. "Night, Mom. I love you."

"Love you, too, kid. Goodnight."

Mary Margaret pauses in the doorway, staring at Emma in the vain up that the power of her gaze can make her daughter look up at her. After an uncomfortable thirty seconds, she turns away, sure if she speaks she'll start sobbing, and follows Henry out of the room.

Graham exhales slowly before going to sit on the edge of the bed. He slips one hand into hers, lifting his other to brush back an errant strand of her hair. "You okay?" His voice is all tenderness and concern.

"Yeah." Her voice is barely a breath, trembling and fragile like a little girl's. Graham brings her hand to his lips, gently kissing her knuckles, and the gesture sends the tears she's been stubbornly fighting all day spilling over. Emma doesn't seem to notice. "Graham?"

"Yeah?"

Her lower lip is trembling. She opens her mouth to speak but closes it again. After a second, she repeats, "Graham?"

He traces his thumb over her cheek, catching another tear as it slides down. "Mmm?," he murmurs vaguely, patient.

"Graham…" It takes her a second to get anything out besides his name, her voice quivering. "Did David, um. Did he read my letter?"

"He did," Graham tells her gently.

The tears are coming faster now, and Emma reaches out, almost unconsciously fisting Graham's shirt with her free hand. A sob rips out of her.

"Em…." He pulls her into his arms at the same second she finally falls apart.

Graham doesn't shush her, or tell her it's going to be okay. He just holds her tightly while she sobs against his chest, stroking her hair and blinking back his own tears.

He wonders just how powerful it is, this magic that connects their hearts. He wonders if that has something to do with the fact that it feels like his heart may burst, if that's the reason it physically hurts him to hear her cry like this, to know she's hurting when he can't do anything to stop it.

Maybe it's the magic, but maybe not. Maybe that's just how it always is when you love someone.

_A/N: Sorry for the delay on this one, I've got a lot of writing projects going on. But we're so close to an end here, I'm definitely not abandoning it. More to come, and I'd love to here what you think of this chapter._


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